


History

by LadyRa



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRa/pseuds/LadyRa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case brings up memories for Gibbs, Abby, and Tony</p>
            </blockquote>





	History

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this story, let's pretend that Gibbs is in his early-forties (after all Gibbs said he wasn't considerably older than 37, lol), Tony is early thirties (like 32), and Abby is in her late twenties (like 29), which means when Abby was 9, Tony was 12 and Gibbs was 22ish. 
> 
> WARNING: There is a rape case in this story, but they arrive after the fact. Also, the story starts with Abby and Tony as children, and Tony is an abused child which gets talked about a lot. As the reader you mostly deal with it after it’s happened. And yes, this is one of those stories where Tony’s dad is the devil incarnate, so if you’re sick of stories like that, steer clear.

####  Twenty years ago:

"Hey!" came a cheery voice from the end of the driveway.

Gibbs stopped his sanding and stood up straight, looking in the direction the voice came from. "Hey, back," he said, smiling. It was hard not to return that bright smile, even if he didn't know the young girl.

"Whatcha makin'?" she asked, as she walked toward him, as if his response had been all the permission she'd needed to come closer.

"A baby crib," Gibbs said. They'd just found out that Shannon was pregnant. The very day they'd found out, he'd put all his other wood-working projects away and begun the crib. Even though the hit he'd taken in his shoulder on his last tour of duty still hurt, he couldn't stop himself from working with wood. He was going to PT three times a week to get official therapy; woodworking was his own kind of therapy.

"Cool," she said brightly, her curious eyes taking everything in.

"What's your name?" Gibbs asked.

"Abby," she replied. "What's yours?"

"You can call me Gibbs," he said. Four years in the military and he was already more accustomed to people shouting his last name than saying his first. She looked to be about eight or nine, with dark brown hair that hung loose around her shoulders and long bangs that she kept blowing out of the way with loud puffs of air. She was in shorts, flip-flops and, oddly, a turtleneck. Given how hot it was, the turtleneck made Gibbs curious. "You cold?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but when she followed his gaze, she giggled. "No. It’s just this family I'm staying with, they don't like my tattoo." She pulled down the neck of the turtleneck and displayed a very large spider web tattoo.

Gibbs stared at it for a long moment, a thousand thoughts running through his mind, most of them unpleasant, rendering him speechless.

"It's cool, right?" Abby said with a thousand watt grin. "I so wanted a big spider on it, too, but Rick, that's my uncle, he said I had to wait until I was twelve for that." She rolled her eyes as if at the vast unfairness of that.

"Your uncle got you that tattoo?" Gibbs asked, doing his best to keep his anger out of his voice. None of this was her fault.

"Yeah," she said appreciatively. "You should see his tats." She sighed as if they were one of the wonders of the world. "He has them up both arms, all over his front and back, and he's working on his legs now." She grinned again, "I got to pick out the last couple he got."

"Does your mom know you have that tattoo?" Gibbs had no idea if his unborn child was going to be a girl or a boy, but he could never imagine allowing him or her to get a tattoo when they were this young, let alone one so difficult to conceal.

Abby's cheerful face tightened for a moment, her lips tight, but then she shook her head. "No. My mom's kind of sick, so Rick's been taking care of me. He let me get the tat to cheer me up. She's deaf," Abby continued, before Gibbs could get a word in edgewise. She made a complicated motion with her hands, ending up at her mouth squeezing her index and thumb together. "That's my name. Cool, right?"

"That's how you say Abby?" Gibbs asked, curious enough to put the tattoo conversation on hold, temporarily.

"Sort of. Someone who's deaf has to give a sign name to someone who isn't. They figure out something about you and name you. So this," she made a fist, her thumb to the side, "is the letter a, the first letter of my name. Then this," and she made that squeezing motion with her index and thumb again in front of her lips, "is the sign for bird."

"Someone named you after a bird?" Gibbs clarified.

"No," Abby said with a lopsided grin. "They said I was like a bird. Always flitting here and flitting there, and talking all the time like birds do, especially when you're trying to sleep, and because I eat like a bird. Like a real bird," she added, in case Gibbs had been mistakenly thinking something else, "because they eat a ton, even though most people think that expression means you hardly eat anything. Stupid, right?"

Charmed, despite himself, Gibbs found himself grinning back at her. "Do you think your mother would like your tattoo?" he asked cautiously.

"Probably not," Abby said honestly, "but she's always telling me to find myself, so she'd be cool with it."

Gibbs wasn't so sure about that. "How about your dad?" Gibbs couldn't imagine any dad being cool with his daughter getting a spider web tattoo in such a visible place.

"He's dead," she said. "He died a long time ago. I don't really even remember him." Her eyebrows squinched together again. "I mean, sometimes I have these random memories, but I'm not sure if they're real or not. My mom says that if I like the memories, then I should pretend they're of him, and if I don't, then I should pretend they're not real."

"Do you have some memories of him that you don't like?" Gibbs found himself feeling very protective of the young girl, even if he'd only just met her. A sick mom, a dead dad with potentially bad memories attached to him, an uncle who had no idea how to take care of little girls, and he still hadn't forgotten that she had said she was staying with some other family.

"No," Abby said, without a moment's hesitation. "Just sometimes I remember stuff, like he was a spy, or a secret agent, or something, and I think I might just be making that stuff up." Abby grinned at him. "Although being a spy would be cool, right?" Without waiting for confirmation, Abby added, "There's a place down the street from where I live with my mom where they bring cars that’ve been in accidents. I used to sneak in there and try to figure out what happened."

"So where are you living now?" Gibbs asked, after taking a few seconds to process all the information she'd just told him.

For the first time, Abby looked apprehensive, and it got Gibbs' guard up. The apprehension was replaced by sadness, and tears filled Abby's eyes. She sniffed and turned away. "It's just stupid," she said, wiping at her eyes.

Gibbs put his fingers under her chin, and turned her head back to face him. He reached for one of the rags he'd been using and, finding a clean spot, wiped her tears away. "What's going on? What's making you sad?" Whatever it was, Gibbs was going to fix it.

She let out a shaky sigh, sniffed once more, and said, "One of my teachers got really mad that Rick let me get this tattoo, so they called someone, and they sent this lady to talk to me, and then to Rick, and then to my mom, and they decided to put me in this foster home because they don't think Rick is taking good care of me." She burst into tears.

"Hey, hey," Gibbs said, pulling her into his arms and letting her weep. He patted her hair, wondering where his calm day had gone, along with his plans for completing the crib while Shannon was at her mom's for the weekend. Finally, the tears started slowing down, turning more into hiccups and sniffs. He pulled back a little. "You better?"

Sniffling, her eyes red, and her cheeks all splotchy, Abby nodded. "Anthony's gonna yell at me, though." She stepped away from him and sat on the grass.

Another name to add to Gibbs' ever-growing list of people who may or may not be taking care of Abby as well as they should. "Who's Anthony?"

"He lives at the house, too," Abby explained.

"Is he a foster child as well?" Gibbs asked.

Abby thought about it, then shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe."

"How old is he?"

"Twelve," Abby said. "He told me he was twelve. He liked my tattoo, but he thought I put it in a stupid place."

Gibbs tended to agree.

"Why will Anthony yell at you?"

"Because he thinks I trust people too much. He'd be mad that I let you hug me when I don't even know you. But I do know you. You're a good guy, right?"

"Yeah, I am," Gibbs said, liking this Anthony already. "But there are people out there who might seem like they're nice to get you to hang out with them, but not be nice at all. You do need to be careful."

"You sound just like him," Abby said with a grin. She looked better, back to what Gibbs suspected was her usual good nature, although her eyes were still red. "There's a real pretty lady who lives at the house, and you'd think she was nice because she was so pretty, but she's kind of mean."

Gibbs was a little dismayed about how little Abby seemed to know about where she was living. "Who is the pretty lady?"

Abby shrugged. "I'm not sure. She came to pick me up, but when we got to this huge house, she introduced me to this other lady who speaks Spanish and this other lady who speaks Spanish, too, and then she left. The two ladies do a lot of cleaning and cooking."

"What does the other lady do? The pretty one."

"She likes to play dress up," Abby said. "She has the most beautiful clothes, but she said I couldn't touch anything." She leaned in. "She doesn't like Anthony very much."

"Why not?" Gibbs said.

"He's sort of nasty to her," she confided, "so she's really nasty back. They fight a lot."

Gibbs asked the one question he needed an answer for. "Does anyone hurt you there, Abby? Or touch you in ways that make you uncomfortable?"

She stared at him a moment, her brow furrowed as if she wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, but then she shook her head. "No. They're okay. The Spanish ladies are nice. Anthony speaks perfect Spanish, cuz he hangs with them a lot, too, and he's been teaching me. _Hola, que tal_?" she threw out.

"Muy bien," Gibbs said in return.

She beamed at him. "Cool, right? I want to learn every language there is. That would be so cool to be able to talk to everyone."

"Abby," came a scolding voice from the street.

"Uh oh," Abby said meekly. "That's Anthony." To Anthony, she said, "Hey!"

The young boy stalked up the driveway toward Abby. "Who are you?" Anthony asked Gibbs belligerently.

"You can call me Gibbs," he answered.

"That's not what I asked you," Anthony snapped, moving closer, getting in between Abby and Gibbs.

Appreciating the kid's motives, even if he could have done without the attitude, Gibbs pulled his wallet out, withdrawing both his license and military ID, and handed them over.

Anthony took a long time to look at them, as if committing them to memory. Then he stared at Gibbs. Gibbs didn't think he'd been subjected to such thorough scrutiny since boot camp. Gibbs took the opportunity to study him back. He was tall, gangly, with high cheek bones, thick unruly hair, and it was already easy to see that he'd be a very handsome man. He had on jeans and a football jersey, along with some fancy and expensive looking sneakers.

Handing the pieces of identification back, Anthony squatted down in front of Abby. It took him a second, but, voice hard, he asked, "Why have you been crying?" He stood, took a threatening step toward Gibbs and demanded, "Why was she crying?"

Gibbs put a placating hand up. "She was crying about them taking her away from Rick and putting her in foster care."

Anthony let out a dramatic sigh and flopped to the ground in front of Abby. "Can't blame her for that. I feel like crying most of the time, too." For the first time, he grinned, and Gibbs could foresee the girls falling all over this kid as he got older. 

"You a foster kid, too?" Gibbs asked.

"I wish," Anthony muttered. He jumped to his feet. "Come on, Abs. Time to go home. Rosalia will worry if you miss supper." He nudged her flip-flops with his sneakers. "She made your favorite."

Abby's eyes brightened. "Really?"

Anthony nodded, grinning at her, his eyes kind and affectionate. He hesitated for a second, as if waiting for something, and when Abby opened her mouth, Anthony echoed her, "Cool, right?" 

Abby giggled, and Anthony held out his hand to her. 

Gibbs felt curiously bereft that they were leaving.

"Bye, Gibbs," Abby said. "It was nice to meet you."

"You, too, Abby," Gibbs said. "And you, too, Anthony."

Anthony looked surprised for a moment, but then he shrugged.

"Can I come back and visit some more?" Abby asked.

"I'd like that," Gibbs said honestly. He almost included Anthony in that, but something in the boy's eyes stopped him.

"Abby," Anthony said, "go wait by the street. I'll be right there."

Abby frowned but did as directed, waiting down by the mailbox.

"You hurt her," Anthony hissed at him, "and I'll kill you. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Gibbs said, taken back by the undeniable menace in the boy’s voice. "Good job."

"I mean it," the boy snarled, obviously taking Gibbs' comment as mocking.

"I did, too," Gibbs said as sincerely as he could. "You did a good job getting your point across. And it's always a man's job to protect those who can't protect themselves."

Anthony stood a little taller for a second, before an odd look of desolation crossed his face.

"I'd never hurt her," Gibbs assured him, needing to convince him.

Anthony stared at him, like he'd done before. "Abby's special," Anthony finally said, backing down.

"All children are," Gibbs countered. "Even you."

Anthony shook his head disparagingly. He turned around, walked to the end of the drive, collected Abby, and took off down the street.

Gibbs watched them go until they were around the corner and out of sight. Amused, touched, and angry for some reason, Gibbs wished Shannon was home, because he didn't want to be alone anymore.

* * *

The next time Gibbs saw Abby, it was Anthony who brought her by. He opened the door to find both of them there. Once again, Shannon was out. "Can you watch her for a little while?" Anthony blurted out.

Gibbs noticed that the young man had a black eye. "Who hit you?" Gibbs asked, defensive on the boy's behalf.

"I walked into a door," Anthony said easily.

Gibbs thought he said it a little too easily, like he'd been practicing.

"Can you watch her?" Anthony asked again, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Of course," Gibbs said. "For how long?"

Anthony thought about it. Gibbs watched his face, wishing he could read the boy's mind. Based on his face, Gibbs didn't think he was thinking particularly pleasant thoughts. "An hour, maybe two."

"Is something wrong?"

Anthony chuffed out a mirthless laugh, shaking his head, his eyes looking weary and suspicious, even as he said, "Nope. Everything's fine. I just need someone to watch Abby for a little while."

"I'd be glad to," Gibbs said. "You can stay, too, if you want."

Another head shake. "Nah." To Abby, he said, "Try not to talk too much." Then he grinned at her.

She stuck her tongue out at him then grinned back.

Anthony sent Gibbs another look, a silent version of the threat from the last time he'd seen him, and then he sauntered off down the sidewalk as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

Abby shrugged. "Anthony and the pretty lady were yelling, and then he came out and said that we were gonna come visit you." Her eyes lit up, "Did you get the crib done? Can I see it?"

"Did you see him walk into a door?" Gibbs pointed at his eye to make sure she knew what he was talking about.

"Nope," she said, "but he always has bruises. He plays a lot of sports." Her eyes grew wide. "Last Saturday, I watched him play football, and like twenty people jumped on top of him. Crazy, right?"

"Did he get hurt?"

She shook her head. "No, he got right back up and played some more." Her eyes were filled with stars as if she thought the moon rose and fell with Anthony.

Bruises associated with sports was plausible enough, but Gibbs still thought Anthony had been lying about the door. Regardless, he had an unexpected houseguest, so he welcomed her inside, and then took her back to what would be the nursery when it was completed, to show her the crib.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Gibbs saw Abby once or twice a week, and she somehow timed every visit for when Shannon was out of the house. Gibbs would have thought she was doing it on purpose if Abby, despite her fondness for spies, had had an ounce of guile in her. She was the most open person Gibbs had ever met. Not that Gibbs had spent much time with children before, but she just had a way of pulling you into her orbit that was endearing.

Gibbs saw Anthony a few times as well, but it was only when Anthony was either dropping her off, or picking her up. One time, he'd had a bruised cheek, which he wrote off to football. Another time he was limping. "Basketball," he said, before being asked.

This time, as he stood at the door, he had his arm in a splint. "Skateboarding," he threw out, once again, before Gibbs could ask.

Gibbs might have believed him if it wasn't for the anguish in the boy's eyes, and how he wouldn't make eye contact for more than a second. "Abby," Gibbs said, "do me a favor, and get my hammer from downstairs, would you?" It was a nonsensical errand, but one Abby could easily do.

A flash of fear crossed Anthony's face, and he took a step back.

Anger seared through Gibbs, and as soon as Abby was out of earshot, he demanded, "Who hurt you?"

Shoulders hunched, Anthony said, "Nothing I can't handle."

"That's not what I asked you," Gibbs bit out.

It was the wrong tone of voice to use, because Anthony shut down, stepping back outside to the porch. He yelled, "Abby, come on."

"Anthony," Gibbs said softly. "You can talk to me."

A hopeless chuckle left the boy's lips. "Right. Abby! Come on."

Abby came running up the stairs, hammer in hand. "Here," she said brightly, holding it out for Gibbs.

He took it, and when he looked up, Anthony was half way to the street, calling for Abby over his shoulder. Abby smiled at Gibbs and then skipped out after Anthony.

"Damn it," Gibbs said to himself. 

* * *

Abby wasn't her usual cheery self when she next came over. She sat at his kitchen table, running her fingers through the condensation on the glass, her feet swinging, and said nothing.

Gibbs frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like living at that house anymore."

Alarms started going off in Gibbs' head. "Why not?"

"Everyone's so mean. Well, except for Anthony. And Rosalia and Maria. Well, and John. He's the chauffeur. And Edward. He takes care of the horses. Him and Martin. He's nice, too. Oh, and Manuel is nice, too. He mows the grass, and does the gardens and stuff. I like him."

Gibbs' eyebrows went up. That was a lot of staff. For the first time, and he was a little chagrined at this, he wondered exactly where, and with whom, Abby was staying. "So, who's mean?" he asked.

"The pretty lady, and the mean man," she said.

"What are their names?" Gibbs pushed.

"Anthony calls the pretty lady Melissa, although," she added, her eyes bright with a secret she shouldn't know, "he calls her a bitch, too." She covered her nose and mouth with one of her small hands and giggled. "I know that's a bad word," she said.

"Who's the mean man?" Gibbs asked, through narrowed eyes.

"I don't see him very often. Anthony says he works away from home a lot. But, when he comes home, he and the pretty lady yell a lot. Anthony puts me in his room, and tells me to stay there when they start yelling." She leaned forward. "They can yell a lot. And sometimes, she throws things." Rolling her eyes, she said, "Rick never threw things."

Abby had a point. Rick may have too much love for body art, and not enough common sense, but Abby clearly doted on him. Sometimes Child Protective Services got things right, and sometimes they got things wrong, too. Gibbs wondered if he should give them a call.

"The other night," Abby said, as if telling a particularly riveting ghost tale, "the mean man was stomping down the hall, yelling a lot."

"Yelling what?" Gibbs asked.

"Like 'where is she', and 'you can't keep hiding her', stuff like that. Maybe he was looking for the pretty lady. Anthony came into my bedroom, and we snuck out the window!" she said in excitement, as if nothing could be more fun. "We went to his friend's house, Joel's, and watched TV until I fell asleep. That was fun. But I don't like it when the mean man yells. That's kind of scary."

"Are you ever alone in the house?" He felt sick to his stomach, sure that Abby was the 'she' in question.

"No," Abby said. "Anthony doesn't like me to be alone there. He always tells me to make sure he's there before I go in, and if he's not, to come over here, or go to Joel's or Rick's. He gives me money so I can take a cab if I need to."

Gibbs stared at her in consternation, dismayed that he hadn't pushed harder about her situation. He was also astonished at how Anthony took care of her. "What does Anthony call the mean man?" he asked, still not sure if he was their son or another foster child.

Abby clapped her hand over her mouth. "He uses really bad words," she said through her fingers. "You know, the 'f' word."

"Where's Anthony now?"

"He said he'd pick me up here at six."

Gibbs wondered what they would have done if he hadn't been out on medical leave. Normally, they wouldn't have had someone at their beck and call to drop in and visit so often. Gibbs was thankful that he'd been able to fulfill that need for them, but he was almost healed enough to return to duty, and in fact, had gotten new orders today. 

Abby subsided again, the brief story telling done. "I really don't like it there," she said quietly. "I wish me and Anthony could go somewhere else." She glanced around Gibbs' house, not saying anything, but it was clear that she wished she could stay with Gibbs.

"I wish you could stay here, Abby," Gibbs told her honestly, "but we'll be leaving in a couple of weeks."

"What?" she cried, appalled. "You're leaving? Why? When?"

He hadn't meant to break the news so bluntly. His new orders had included another move, something Shannon had not been happy about. They had hoped to stay here for at least another two years. "We're moving to South Carolina. I have to move there for my job."

Abby burst into tears.

"Abby," Gibbs said, "I'm sorry." He wished he could take her with him. Her and Anthony. He moved to her and hugged her. "I'm sorry."

"But, where will I go?" Abby wailed. 

That Gibbs could do. He'd call Child Protective Services and make sure they put Abby back with Rick. It was the least he could do. Maybe he could even go meet Rick.

There was a knock at the door, and Gibbs glanced at the clock and saw it was too early for Anthony to be there. Patting Abby on the head, he walked to the door and opened it up. What he saw made him want to punch someone. It was Anthony with another black eye, a badly bruised cheek, and a busted lip. "What the hell happened to you?"

He watched as Anthony tried to come up with something reasonable. He must have forgotten to come up with a plausible excuse because, after a few seconds, Anthony just shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't," Gibbs snarled. "Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Anthony said again, louder. "You can't do anything about it. Trust me." He glanced around Gibbs, saw that Abby was crying. "What's she crying for?"

"I just told her we're leaving. We're moving to South Carolina."

Panic flickered in Anthony's eyes. "When?"

"In two weeks. I just got my new orders."

"But," Anthony said, almost gasping, "what will I--" he shut his mouth over whatever else he might have said, his lips pinched tight, even though that must have hurt his lip.

Gibbs could see the boy thinking ferociously, and his stomach started roiling as he began to realize just how much Anthony depended on him. "I'll figure something out," Gibbs told him. "Someplace else you can send her to keep her safe."

Anthony nodded, clearly not believing him, and Gibbs wondered just how many times people had promised to help and then done nothing. "Who is it that Abby calls the mean man?"

"My father," Anthony said tightly. He looked like he was doing his very best not to cry. "Can she stay for a couple more hours?" he asked. Anthony cleared his throat and sniffed, looking away.

"Of course. Why don't you come in, too?" Gibbs asked.

Anthony shook his head.

Gibbs grabbed a pen and notepad from the desk by the door, and wrote down his number. "Call me if you need me."

"For two more weeks?" Anthony said hopelessly. "What then?" As if he realized he'd revealed too much, Anthony turned and ran.

"Crap," Gibbs said, watching as the young man vanished down the street.

* * *

The next day was extraordinarily frustrating as Gibbs spent most of the day on the phone trying to speak to Abby's case worker. He'd thought military bureaucracy was bad, but it had nothing on social services. By mid-afternoon he was ready to pull his hair out, and was half tempted to just take Abby with him when he moved to South Carolina. If she hadn’t had any family, he'd have done it, but her mom was still here, not to mention her Uncle Rick.

He had just hung up when the phone rang. "Gibbs," he answered.

"Gibbs!" Abby screamed.

Galvanized by the tone in her voice, Gibbs stood fast enough to send his chair skittering across the kitchen floor. "Abby, what is it?"

"He's killing Anthony!" she sobbed in the phone. 

"Where are you?" he demanded, grabbing his keys.

"At the house," she cried, almost incoherent.

Gibbs could hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

"Get out of the house, Abby. Now!" 

"But, Anthony," she wailed.

"Get out," Gibbs ordered again, hating that he had so little information to work with. He had no idea where the 'house' was, couldn't call the police, couldn't even go pick Abby up, or go and fucking beat up the man who was using Anthony as a punching bag.

"Abby, go!" Gibbs heard Anthony yell. "Just run! Go!"

There was the sound of a phone hitting the ground.

Gibbs ran to his car, backed out of his driveway, heading in the direction he always saw Abby coming from. He hoped like hell it was toward the house, and not her school. He was furious with himself for being so useless, two children in danger, one perhaps in mortal danger, and here he was, driving down streets like a blind fool. Gibbs could only hope that, in her fear, she was exaggerating about how badly Anthony was being hurt, even as he did his best to deny the sounds he himself had heard.

Hearing a siren, Gibbs focused in on it, hoping it was going to the house. Maybe someone had called the police. Maybe one of the staff, all of who seemed to like Abby, and hopefully Anthony as well, had called.

A police car sped by him, followed by an ambulance, and Gibbs followed them. That was when he saw her. She was running down the street like the hounds of hell were after her, sobbing inconsolably. Gibbs slammed on the brakes and leapt from his car. She saw him and threw herself into his arms, crying as if her heart was breaking. He couldn’t understand a word she was saying, but he heard enough A-A-A sounds, to know she was crying for Anthony.

"Come on," he said, picking her up. "Show me where."

She stayed in his lap, even though it made driving difficult, and directed him to the house. When they arrived, the police car and the ambulance were there. Abby refused to get out of the car, still crying, even as she kept sobbing Anthony's name. Gibbs didn't want to leave her, but he also wanted to make sure that Anthony was okay.

"Abby," he said, trying to convince her to either come with him or stay alone.

"Go!" she cried, pushing at him. "Go save Anthony!" 

He opened his door. "Lock it after me, okay? Don't open it for anyone but me, you hear me?"

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gibbs shut the door and waited until Abby pushed the lock down. Just to be safe, he checked the rest of the doors and then tapped at her window to have her lock her side as well. When that was done, Gibbs moved swiftly toward the house.

As he approached the stairs, noting the huge columns, the size of the house, and the money it must take to maintain it, the ambulance staff came out the door with Anthony.

Or with what was left of him. Jesus.

Gibbs swallowed the acid taste in the back of his throat, even as rage consumed him. The boy had been beaten badly. He wasn't dead; Anthony's head wasn't covered, but Gibbs had seen dead bodies in better shape. Not surprising, considering a full grown man had assaulted him. 

He had absolutely no doubt that there were more injuries, but they were concealed by a sheet. As they took Anthony out to the ambulance, Gibbs waited for a second, assuming the police would be bringing out the boy's father next.

As the seconds passed and no one came out, Gibbs ran up the stairs and poked his nose through the open door. He hadn't really given much thought to what he expected to see, but it wasn't what he found. One of the staff, a woman, was weeping, speaking in Spanish--even Gibbs could tell when someone was invoking the gods in Spanish--as one of the cops put handcuffs on her.

An older gentleman, who Gibbs assumed was Anthony's father, was watching the proceedings with a sorrowful look on his face. Gibbs could only guess at how practiced it was. The other cop was watching the older man, anger on his face coupled with resignation.

"What the hell is going on?" Gibbs demanded. He pointed at the older man. "That man just beat his son almost to death, and you're not doing anything?" he accused the cops.

The cops refused to meet his eyes and, sickened, Gibbs remembered Anthony telling him not to bother trying to help. Now he could see why. "What'd he give you?" he snapped at the cop. "Money?"

The cop leading the crying Hispanic woman out the front door shot Gibbs a warning look. Gibbs didn't care. He was going to be gone in two weeks. This man, whoever the hell he was, had no power over him.

"You sicken me," Gibbs snarled at him.

"You forget yourself," the man said with a voice that said that he always got whatever he wanted, even if it was to beat up his twelve year old son.

He heard his name being yelled, and then Abby hurtled through the front door, running to Gibbs, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Is he okay?" she asked anxiously.

"Ah, there you are, Abby," the man said, as if she'd simply been swinging in the back yard. "Go up to your room."

"Over my dead body," Gibbs bit out. Pushing Abby behind him, he stalked over to the man and putting every ounce of power from years of training into his fist, hit the man hard enough to knock him into the wall and flat on his ass. "You ever, ever, touch that boy again, and I don't care what it takes," Gibbs swore, "I will see you rot in hell."

The man was clearly dazed, but he was with it enough to look around, obviously expecting the remaining cop to come to his aid, but the vestibule was empty. Gibbs decided they were frightened cops, certainly, but maybe not paid-off cops.

"Abby is my foster child," the man said slowly, his eyes flinty. "Leave her, and get out of my house."

"Abby's coming with me, and I will be making sure that she never comes back here," Gibbs said furiously. "And I'll make sure that you never get any other foster children in this house, you sick piece of crap."

"You'll regret this," Anthony's father said angrily.

"Not as much as you will," Gibbs retorted back. Never turning around, not trusting to expose his back to the man, Gibbs backed out of the house, keeping himself between the man and Abby. "Come on," he encouraged her. "Back to the car."

Not that she needed much urging. Once they were over the threshold, she ran for the car, calling for him to follow her, to hurry up. Gibbs didn't waste any time, either. In a matter of seconds, they were in the car, and he was heading for the main road.

* * *

The next two weeks were the busiest Gibbs could remember. In addition to getting the house ready for the move, packing his belongings, and trying to keep Shannon from lifting anything heavy, he was also doing his best to work the system, to get Abby someplace safe. 

He and Abby tried to see Anthony, but strict instructions had been left that only immediate family could see him, and not even Abby's smile and promises that she was Anthony's sister, moved anyone to let them in. 

Late one night, he managed to sneak in, waiting until the staff at the nurses' station were busy. He entered Anthony's room to find him awake and clearly relieved to see Gibbs. "Abby okay?" were the first words out of his battered mouth. There were stitches below his bottom lip.

Gibbs could have hugged him, but he didn't want to hurt the boy. Instead, he carried a chair from the corner, moved it next to the bed, and sat down on it. Anthony looked better; after all, he was conscious, but his face and arms were all mottled in black, blue, yellow, and green, making it clear he was recovering from older bruises as well as the new ones. "She's fine," Gibbs assured the boy. "She's staying with her mom for the time being. I explained the situation, and her mom's petitioning for Abby to go back to Rick's." Gibbs grimaced. "I'm hoping the program will take an ill-advised tattoo over--" Gibbs stopped. "What happened?" 

Anthony seemed to know exactly what Gibbs was talking about, even with the abrupt subject change. "He had Abby by the arm, and he was dragging her upstairs," Anthony said darkly.

Gibbs wished he'd done more than punch the man. 

"I heard you punched him," Anthony blurted out. Then, he added fiercely, "I'm glad."

"And I’m glad you were there to protect Abby," Gibbs said, heartfelt. "Thank you for that."

Anthony shrugged, hiding the wince his movement elicited. "They won't send her back there, will they?"

"No," Gibbs said. "I'll make sure of that."

Nodding, Anthony relaxed, his change in posture allowing Gibbs to see just how tense he'd been.

"How about you?" Gibbs said.

Anthony shrugged again, futilely, a gesture that made Gibbs want to punch the wall.

"Have you told someone?" Gibbs asked.

"I used to," Anthony said. "No one listens, and the ones that do, end up being sorry. After a while, I stopped talking."

"How about the staff at your house?" Gibbs asked in anger. Surely one of them had the courage to protect a boy from being beaten. 

"He fires them and hires new ones on a regular basis. Sometimes he has them deported. Like Rosalia." A sad smile crossed Anthony's young face. "I liked her. My father's an asshole, in case you didn't notice."

"Yeah, I got that," Gibbs said. "I can make some calls." Suddenly, he wished he had more time to try to fix this.

Anthony shook his head. "Nah. He'll be okay for a while."

"Until he starts again," Gibbs protested.

"Just take care of Abby," Anthony said. 

"How did he end up with a foster child?" Gibbs asked, having wondered that for a while.

"It's not him; it's my stepmother. It's the 'in' charity right now, and she always wants to be in on the latest fads. Not that she spent any time with Abby, other than parading her around at a couple of garden parties. She expects the staff to take care of everything."

"And you." 

"I liked Abby," Anthony said simply.

"She's hard not to like," Gibbs said with a small grin.

"Excuse me," a nurse said sternly from the doorway. "You're not allowed to be in here. Leave immediately, or I'll call security."

It hadn't been near enough time, and Gibbs hadn't been able to fix anything, but he knew this would only end badly if he stayed, so he stood. He hesitated for a second, but then reached down and gave Anthony a careful hug. "Take care of yourself," Gibbs said, his voice tight with sadness at this boy's future, at least until he got big enough to fight back. "Try to remember that there are good people out there who will help when they can."

Anthony's eyes were latched on to him, as if Gibbs were a life preserver in rocky seas. "Thanks," Anthony said, "for taking care of Abby, and not minding me too much."

"Out, now," the nurse demanded. She yelled down the hall. "Someone call security!"

"Guess that's my cue," Gibbs said, one hand cupping Anthony's cheek, wishing he could take him with him. "I expect good things from you, Anthony. Don't let me down."

Anthony nodded, eyes bright with forlorn tears. 

Frustrated, sad, angry, and a dozen other emotions, Gibbs stalked out the door and down the hall to the stairway.

* * *

Three days later, Gibbs tried to sneak in again, only to find someone else in Anthony's room. 

"Where's Anthony?" Gibbs asked at the nurse's station. He had no doubt that the boy had been a favorite patient, despite the situation.

"He was transferred to another hospital," one of the nurses said. Her name tag read Rachel.

"Where?"

"I don't know," Rachel said. "He was gone when I came on shift. Someplace in New England."

"The hospital apparently didn't need another wing," another nurse said under her breath, but loud enough for Gibbs to hear.

"Did you report his father?" Gibbs demanded, enraged at the sly mockery of the situation. "Aren't you required by law to report child abuse?"

All he met were angry stares. Gibbs wasn't sure if the looks meant that they'd tried and failed, or if they hadn't tried at all and were ashamed, or if they'd tried and paid a price. Not that it mattered, not for Anthony. He slammed his hand down on the counter and left. 

Gibbs sat in his car, feeling helpless. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of man Anthony would turn into if he continued to be beaten on a regular basis by the one man in the world he should be able to trust implicitly. 

* * *

He went to visit Abby the day before he was leaving. "Here are some numbers you can reach me at," he said, handing Abby a piece of paper. "I don't have a new home number yet, but when I get it, I'll call you and give it to you."

"Are you sure you have to go?" Abby said unhappily.

He chucked her under the chin. "We'll see each other again. I promise. And I will keep in touch."

"Really promise?" she begged. "Pinky swear?"

"Sure," Gibbs said, wanting to agree but not really sure what it meant, only to find Abby putting up her hand, her pinky extended. Half a grin on his face, he copied her, and found himself hugging her pinky with his. "Pinky swear?" he clarified.

"Pinky swear," she said firmly, "You can't break that." 

He nodded seriously. 

She leaned into him, tears filling her eyes. "Is Anthony gonna be okay?" she asked, her face scrunching up.

"I hope so," Gibbs said. "I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to say goodbye."

She buried her face in his shoulder and sniffled. 

* * *

The next day, Gibbs and Shannon watched the moving truck head around the corner. Gibbs gave his old house one more look, sent a prayer skyward for Anthony, and patted his wallet where Abby's numbers lay. He pulled Shannon closer to give her a hug, and then they got in their car to head down to South Carolina.

####  Present Day:

Tim watched as one of the paramedics put a blanket around the girl, while the EMT and the driver put the guy she'd been with on a stretcher. He'd been beaten badly, although his attackers had kept him just conscious enough to know his girlfriend was getting raped repeatedly.

"I hate rape cases," Tim muttered under his breath.

"What's that, probie?" Tony asked him.

"I said," Tim repeated a little louder, although he looked around to make sure no one else could hear him, "that I hate rape cases."

Tony shot him a look. "Why's that? I mean, besides the obvious." He waved a hand at exhibit A, to the ambulance where the girl was now crying, curled up tight as if to protect every bit of her.

"Promise you won't laugh?" Tim asked guardedly, wondering to himself why he even asked that question. Of course Tony would laugh at him.

"Depends on what you say," Tony said with a taunting grin. "Hit me with your best shot. I'm ready."

Tim noticed that Tony's eyes were still canvassing the ground, the walls, the entire alley, looking for clues they might have missed. It had taken a while, but Tim, reluctantly, had finally concluded that as much as Tony appeared to be goofing off all the time, a good deal of that time he was only pretending to screw around. He wasn't sure why Tony did it, but he did. "Okay," Tim said, marshaling his thoughts. "So, I'm a man," he started.

"Sort of want to laugh already," Tony confided to him.

Tim rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, Tony. There she is, she's been raped, violated, something brutal's been done to her, ripped from her, that she might never recover from, and it makes me so mad and I want to help, but I know that probably no matter what I say or do, she's going to think that I can't possibly understand, because I'm a man. It just makes me feel helpless. Like no matter what I say, it'll be the wrong thing."

He expected to find Tony laughing at him, but instead, he caught a glimpse of the serious side of Tony, the side that usually only came out when Tony was on the hunt during a case, or saving someone's life, sometimes Tim's. "Doesn't mean that after the fact, she won't remember you being kind," Tony said.

"Maybe. But it doesn't seem enough." 

"Trust me," Tony said. "Sometimes being kind makes all the difference in the world. Just acting like you care can make a difference."

Tim looked skeptical.

"I'm serious. When she's ready, she'll start reliving everything that happened here, and the good stuff, the kind stuff, it'll help her believe that there are still good people out there. It's important."

The sincerity was so unexpected, the straight answer so unusual, that Tim gawked at Tony. "How do you know that?" he finally asked.

"I just know," Tony said quietly, as he turned and walked back to the ambulance.

The girl saw him and uncurled a little. Tim watched as Tony smiled, moving closer and taking her hand. He couldn't hear what Tony said, but it got a small smile--and some more tears--out of the girl.

Tim thought about what Tony had said, and then, an uncomfortable thought occurred to him. Maybe something bad had happened to Tony; something bad enough where either someone being kind, or not being kind, had left a lasting impression.

Tim knew he'd lived a fairly uneventful life. Nothing bad had really ever happened to him, just the normal ups and downs of life. Really, anything bad that had happened had been since he'd started working at NCIS. Tim tried to imagine what it might have been for Tony. The man acted so cocksure of himself all the time, it was hard to picture it. Maybe it was something he'd seen. Maybe, as a cop, he'd seen enough violent crimes, and spoken to enough victims, that he'd formed his own truths about these types of situations.

"McGee," Gibbs yelled.

Tim started, realizing he'd been staring into space, obviously long enough for Gibbs to have noticed. Great. "Coming," he yelled back, seeing that Tony and Ziva were already standing near Gibbs, all of them obviously waiting for him. "Terrific," he muttered under his breath, just waiting for the mocking to begin.

* * *

"Did something bad happen to Tony?" Tim asked Abby, figuring she'd know. She and Tony were close friends, had been for longer than Tim had worked at NCIS.

"You mean other than getting the plague, or being framed for murder?" Abby said distractedly, watching one of her monitors.

Tim hadn't thought about the fact that a lot of bad stuff had happened to Tony since he'd been with NCIS, too. "No, something before he joined NCIS."

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply in return, now paying close attention to the conversation. She looked around as if she'd just realized that Tony was absent. "Where is he?"

"He's fine," Tim assured her. "I didn't mean now. Did something bad happen to him when he was younger?" 

Abby waited just long enough to answer that Tim knew whatever came out of her mouth would be a lie or an evasion. "Why do you want to know?" she finally said.

Trying to decide what approach would be best to get Abby talking, Tim hesitated then said, "Just something he mentioned."

Abby shrugged. "Why don't you ask him?"

"You know why I can't ask him," Tim protested. "He'd probably come up with some huge lie about getting wounded on safari, or being a volunteer fireman at the World Trade Center, and then he'd milk it for all he was worth." He watched Abby's eyes narrow a little at his words and knew he'd blown it. "Not that Tony can't be a hero," Tim got out quickly, trying to recover ground. "He saved my life when that car exploded."

Abby grinned proudly as if she'd trained Tony to do that particular stunt. "Did he milk that?" she probed.

"Huh," Tim said, in some surprise. "Actually, he didn't."

Abby poked Tim in the chest. "Tony doesn't make fun of serious stuff." She grinned. "Just everything else."

"So you don't know if something happened to him?" Tim asked, one more time.

"I think you should be asking him that question," Abby said firmly. "If he wants to talk about it, he will." Then she grimaced as she realized she'd given away more than she wanted to. 

"So something bad did happen to him," Tim stated, finding the thought of that disturbing. 

"What have you got for me, Abs?" Gibbs said from behind Tim, and Tim hunched his shoulders, fully expecting one of Gibbs' head slaps. He didn't get them very often, but this was twice today that Gibbs had caught him being distracted. Surprisingly, the head slap didn't come, but the glare did, so Tim made himself scarce.

* * *

Gibbs had overheard most of the conversation between Abby and Tim and was thinking about it as Abby babbled on. She was at the 'look how smart I am' part of her speech, and Gibbs thought it was safe to zone out. It had taken a while, but he'd gotten quite good at listening to the cadence of Ducky's and Abby's speech patterns so he'd know exactly when he needed to start listening again.

He wondered what Abby knew about Tony that Gibbs didn't. Over the years since Gibbs had hired him, he and Tony had become friends outside of work. The younger man came over at least once a week to have dinner and keep Gibbs company as he worked on the boat. Every now and then they ended up at Tony's to watch a movie. As the time had gone by, he'd learned a lot about Tony. Gibbs knew about Tony's college days, how his injuries kept him from going pro and what a disappointment that had been. He knew about all of Tony's jobs before coming to NCIS and the reasons he'd left.

Tony didn't talk much about his childhood, and Gibbs didn't probe. After all, he had secrets, too. He didn't talk about Shannon and Kelly. He also didn't talk about how he'd met Abby, although he thought about that summer a lot, and often found himself thinking of the young boy, Anthony. 

He still felt bad that he'd been unable to help him. After Gibbs left for South Carolina, he'd managed to faithfully stay in touch with Abby for years until Shannon and Kelly had died. After that, they'd lost contact for a long while until Abby tracked him down years later. It had almost been like getting a part of his daughter back, and since then they'd kept up a regular communication, until he'd managed to pull some strings to get her hired. 

It was hard to believe it all happened twenty years ago. It seemed like a hundred, and so much of that time seemed fuzzy to him. He'd forgotten Anthony's last name, if he ever knew it. He'd even forgotten the name of the town he'd lived in, or their street address. The two things he did remember were Abby and Anthony. Abby, he'd managed to keep safe. He hadn't been able to keep Anthony safe, and Gibbs still felt it as a personal failure that he'd had to walk away knowing he was leaving a child in danger. 

"Are you listening to me?" Abby demanded.

"No, Abs, I'm not," Gibbs said honestly when he realized he'd missed his cue to tune back in. "Is something wrong with Tony?"

"I don't think so," Abby said. "He seemed fine earlier. What happened to get you and Tim all worked up about him?"

"Nothing," Gibbs said, "I just heard you and Tim talking."

Abby frowned. "Are you ready to listen to me, yet?"

"You're not going to start at the beginning, are you?" Gibbs asked with a mock glare.

"Gibbs, you wound me," Abby said.

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs gestured at her machines. "Just tell me what you have." Footsteps alerted Gibbs to company, and he turned to see Tony joining them. He gave Tony a quick head to toe look to assure himself that Tony was fine, and also because Gibbs hated to miss any opportunity to give Tony a once over. Gibbs had been around a lot of beautiful people in his life, his four wives among them, but there was something about Tony that stirred his blood.

Focusing back on Abby, annoyed at his mental wanderings, he listened more closely.

"According to the female victim's report," Abby was saying, "her boyfriend tried to protect her, but there were four men against the two of them, and they were armed." 

"With baseball bats and rebar," Tony said grimly.

The man's face was up on her screen and it was a mess. Gibbs couldn't imagine the surgeries it would take to put him back together, not to mention the rest of his body. "We knew this," Gibbs said impatiently. "What do you have to show us?"

"This," Abby said, even as she frowned at him. She zoomed in on the man's face. "I know it's not much, but I haven't seen it in any of the other victims' pictures."

This was the third case like this one, all occurring in the last two weeks. Four men attacked a man and a woman. They beat the man into submission, held him while they all took turns raping the woman, and then thrashed the man into unconsciousness before leaving the victims where they lay. The first male victim had been a marine, and the second woman to get raped had been navy, which was why NCIS was working the case. But neither victim had been armed forces the third time and Gibbs was waiting for a jurisdiction fight to break out anytime. Gibbs leaned forward, but before he could make out what Abby was talking about, Tony said, "One of the assailants was wearing a ring?" 

Gibbs hated to admit it, but he probably needed to always wear his glasses or at least keep them on him. 

"And not just a ring," Abby said, "a class ring."

Gibbs was surprised. "Why now? They haven't left any evidence behind before." That had also been frustrating. They even used a condom while raping the girl. There'd been some DNA from skin to skin contact, but Abby hadn't found any matches. The clothing fibers left behind were common and the descriptions of the four men varied so widely, they hadn't been able to come up with even one composite sketch.

"Looks like someone forgot to take their ring off this time," Tony observed. "Could be our lucky break."

"What school, Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"University of Maryland," she pronounced. "Class of 2004."

"So we know that one of our perps is probably in their early twenties," Tony observed.

"Thanks, Abby," Gibbs said with a smile. He indicated that Tony should follow him. 

Abby grabbed Tony's hand and whispered, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Abby," Tony said, looking surprised by the question.

He sounded sincere to Gibbs' ears, so he let it go. He and Tony walked silently to the elevator, and the silence continued on the ride up. Gibbs stood facing front, his back to Tony, the safest, in his estimation, position to be in while riding an elevator with Tony.

It did not, though, keep Gibbs from running through his imaginary conversation with Tony for about the ten thousandth time. 

"Why don't you come over tonight?" he would ask. Or maybe he'd just tell Tony that he'd be dropping over at his place. Tony would agree as he almost always did. "What's on the menu?" Tony would ask. "You," Gibbs would say. At that point, depending on Gibbs' mood, the conversation could go anywhere of a dozen places. Tony could take a swing at him. Tony could tell him thanks, but no thanks, he didn't fuck men. Tony could--Gibbs' favorite--hit the emergency stop button and push Gibbs against a wall and try to suck out his tonsils.

He'd imagined this particular conversation almost every time he'd been in an elevator alone with Tony for years, and truth to tell, it was making Gibbs a little crazy. 

Why he could not shake his attraction to the man was a mystery. Tony could be infuriatingly shallow, self-absorbed and needy. He flirted with every woman he came across, even while on a case--often inappropriately on a case--Voss being a case in point. Not that making a list of Tony's faults seemed to help. When alone, Gibbs spent evenings working on his boat making endless lists of all the reasons why Tony DiNozzo as a love interest was wrong, wrong, so so wrong, but nothing shook it loose. Even becoming better friends with him hadn't helped. He was like a damn sliver under his skin, someplace, like on his back, where Gibbs couldn't get to it. 

It was too bad it wasn't in Gibbs' nature to just go out and get laid. He'd always taken sex pretty seriously, despite his imaginary conversation with Tony about fucking. It was why he'd been married so many times. He'd find someone he was interested in, usually redheaded women, pursue them, end up in a relationship, and more times than not, end up married. It was probably a good thing the last woman he was interested in had ended up the prime suspect in one of their murder cases; otherwise she'd probably be wife number five.

Gibbs had been interested in sex with men, but he'd never pursued it, not with intent. He'd exchanged a few mutual hand jobs when he was in high school, but then he'd met Shannon and joined the military; then he'd lost Shannon and Kelly, and for a long time it all had seemed more trouble and pain than it was worth. 

He was reasonably certain that Tony swung both ways. He was subtle about it, but every now and then Gibbs was sure he saw a look of admiration and desire in Tony's eyes, directed at another man. In fact, Gibbs was reasonably certain he'd seen that look of desire directed at him. As long as Gibbs had wanted Tony, Gibbs was almost certain that Tony wanted him, too.

The elevator dinged and opened into the bullpen. Ziva and McGee looked up as they walked out.

"McGee," Gibbs barked, "University of Maryland, class of 2004, get a list of graduates."

"Undergraduate or graduate?" McGee asked.

"Get Abby to send you a picture of the class ring, and find out what classes had that ring as a choice." 

"Got it," McGee said in response. 

"Ziva, you and Tony go talk to the victims and see if they have any connection to the graduating class of 2004."

"On it," Tony said, as he opened his drawer and pulled out his gun, attaching the holster to his belt.

Gibbs hurriedly pushed aside the thought of Tony in a thigh holster, and wondered if hanging around with the man for so long had damaged his brain. He had watched Tony drive Kate, McGee, and Ziva insane, so it wouldn't come as a surprise. He sat down at his desk, and did not look at Tony's ass as he walked away.

* * *

"Tim seems worried about you," Ziva said, as they drove to the first rape victim's home.

"He shouldn't be," Tony countered.

"Why would he be concerned?" Ziva persisted. Tony had always, despite her best efforts, remained a partial mystery to her. At first glance, he seemed so easy to read, but Tony had layers. A seemingly infinite number of layers, and every time Ziva thought she had him figured out, he threw a new layer at her.

"Why do you care?" Tony asked in a friendly enough tone.

"I don't." 

"Well, then," Tony said, "there you go. Let's talk about something else." He glanced at the file in front of him, even as he grabbed the dashboard as Ziva made a sharp left turn. "You know, you really should take a left turn from the left lane. Just a suggestion."

Ziva humphed at his suggestion; she drove just fine. "It just doesn't seem as if Tim would be concerned about you, unless something had happened to make him concerned about you," she pointed out.

"Are we back on this?" Tony asked. "It's nothing. He just misunderstood something I said. Can we focus? I think we should go see the man who was first attacked. Maybe he was chosen for a reason related to the school, and then our four attackers got the taste for it."

"Or maybe the rape victim was the reason," Ziva argued.

"Okay," Tony said agreeably, but with just a hint of aggravation. "How about I'll take the guy, and you can take the woman. We'll cover more ground that way."

Unable not to push, Ziva said, "Perhaps I will take the man, and you can take the woman."

"It's just going to be one of those days, isn't it?" Tony said with a beleaguered sigh. "Door number one or door number two, you pick."

Ziva glanced over at Tony and saw that he seemed a little despondent. "Are you sure you are all right?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes," he stated loudly. "I'm fine. I just want to solve this case and move on. Okay? Can we do that?"

"I'm not the one who is making a joker of himself most of the time," Ziva said primly, just a little hurt that Tony wouldn't confide in her. It was clear that something was bothering him.

"It's fool."

"What?"

"It's making a fool of himself. Not joker. If you want to use joker, you have to say something like: he's such a joker, that Tony DiNozzo."

Ziva heard a trace of bitterness in his voice. Maybe Abby would know if something had happened to Tony; they were good friends. Putting the subject aside for the time being, Abby asked for the first address.

* * *

"Did something happen to Tony?" Ziva asked Abby.

"Why is everyone asking me that today?" Abby protested. 

"He seems sad," Ziva explained.

"He doesn't like cases where people get beat up," Abby said. "They bother him."

"A case like this bothers everyone," Ziva pointed out.

"So why is Tony being upset about it pushing everyone's buttons?" Abby asked. It was a long time ago, but she still remembered Tony's bruises, still remembered Tony's father punching him in the face when Tony had pulled Abby away from him. It had been awful that that had been the last time she'd seen him for a very long time.

The day he had walked into her lab, Gibbs introducing Tony as his new agent, Abby hadn't recognized him at first. As soon as Gibbs had left, Tony had said, "Abby?" in disbelief. He'd reached out and turned her neck, showing off her spider web tattoo. A huge grin had appeared on his face. "Abby?" he’d said again, this time sure.

She’d shaken her head in confusion.

“It’s Anthony, remember? When you were a foster kid.”

Her eyes had opened comically wide. "Oh, my God. Anthony? That Anthony? My Anthony?"

He'd nodded, and a second later they'd been hugging, and Abby had never been so glad to hug anyone in her life. Finally, though, she’d pulled away. "Wow," she’d said, staring at him, "could you be any better looking?"

Snickering, he’d pulled one of her pigtails. "You're pretty hot yourself, science geek."

"Anthony, Anthony, Anthony," she’d said in divine satisfaction. "I missed you so much. I couldn't believe it when Gibbs came back after visiting you at the hospital and said you were gone."

"He came to visit me again?" he’d said, almost greedily.

"He was beyond pissed," Abby had told him.

Tony had pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I don't think he remembers. He didn't recognize me, and I’m using Tony now.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?”

“I like it better,” he’d shrugged. “It was like a fresh start, picking a new name that no one had ever called me by.”

“I like it. It suits you. And Gibbs might not recognize you, but he definitely remembers. He talks about you on and off. Still feels like he let you down. You should tell him. He'd be glad to know you turned out all right."

Tony had shaken his head. "That was a long time ago. I'd just as soon leave it there. I'd rather him deal with me the way I am now, not the way he remembers me then."

Abby hadn’t been sure about that. She’d really thought Gibbs would want to know. "At least think about it, okay?" Maybe Gibbs would remember; maybe Abby could drop some hints.

"I can't believe we'll be working together."

"Cool, right?" Abby had said, grinning.

Tony had just laughed and pulled her into another hug.

And five years later, here they were. She and Tony were the best of friends, and Gibbs was still clueless. Sometimes she wanted to smack Gibbs on the back of his head, the way he did Tony. Obviously, he was someone you needed to hit with a brick to catch a clue. Of course, Abby thought proudly, she had picked up on the growing unresolved sexual tension between the two men. She didn't think anyone else knew about that. 

After this case was over, she needed to figure out how to get the two of them together.

"Abby," Ziva said. "Why are you smiling?"

"Just remembering something good," Abby said, deliciously keeping all her secrets to herself.

* * *

Tony was the only one at his desk when Gibbs entered the bullpen. "Dinner tonight?" he asked his agent.

"Can't," Tony said disappointedly. "Abby's forcing me to go clubbing with her."

Gibbs ruthlessly suppressed his jealousy. He knew Abby wasn't competition. "You sure that's such a good idea?"

"We're avoiding any of the areas our perps have shown up at, by a large margin," Tony assured him. "But feel free to go try to talk her out of it," he added with a wry smile. "Apparently, I've been neglecting her."

Gibbs knew better than to get in the middle of that. "Tomorrow then?" It was Saturday; maybe they'd get lucky and wouldn't get called in.

"Sure," Tony said with a smile. "My place or yours?"

"Yours," Gibbs said. "Isn't Saturday night when they show those ridiculous science fiction movies you like so much?"

Tony's grin grew wider. "Yeah, it is."

"There you go then."

"It must be love," Tony said with a laugh, "if you're willing to sit through a night of those movies just to make me happy."

Their eyes met for a second, and Gibbs didn't have it in him to deny Tony's comical claim. A part of him wondered, hoped, that maybe Tony was fishing. He found confirmation as Tony's eyes widened.

Gibbs braced himself for whatever reaction might be heading his way, but Tony's smile grew incandescent. "Maybe I should cancel with Abby," Tony suggested. "There's gotta be a stupid science fiction movie on tonight." His eyes told Gibbs that he'd damn well find one.

Gibbs found himself smiling back. "It'll keep 'til tomorrow, DiNozzo." Their eyes met again, and Gibbs could see a matching desire in Tony's eyes, and it was all he could do not to lunge at the man and take him to the floor.

"So could Abby," Tony said.

"So could Abby what?" Abby said, coat over one arm, bag slung on the other shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. "You're not thinking of standing me up, are you?" she asked Tony.

With one last look at Gibbs, Tony stood up, grabbed his backpack, and said, "Not on your life, Abs."

Looking smug, Abby smiled. "Good answer." She turned to Gibbs, "Wanna come? We'll protect you."

Gibbs snickered. "I'll pass." For no discernible reason, a shiver of dread crept down Gibbs' spine. "Just be careful. You fit the pattern, both of you."

"No alleys, Bossman," Abby promised. "And we're taking a cab, so no walking to wherever Tony's car is parked. We've got it covered."

Wishing they were staying in, Gibbs nodded reluctantly. "Call me when you get in," he said, feeling his age, as if he were telling his kids to obey curfew.

"It'll be late," Abby cautioned, assuming that the directive was pointed at her.

Gibbs sent Tony a look, so he'd know it was also to him. "I don't care."

"Okay, papa bear," Abby said sweetly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Tony opened his mouth, no doubt to say something Gibbs would have to smack him on the back of his head for. "Don't say it," he threatened Tony.

Tony chortled, saying, "Come on, Abs, let's get this show on the road. Night, Boss."

"Good night," Gibbs said, watching the two of them walk to the elevator. They made a handsome pair, and Gibbs once again felt that shiver. He was about to tell them not to go when the elevator arrived and they stepped into it, the door closing behind them.

* * *

As the evening grew later, Gibbs found his work on the boat less and less sufficiently distracting. He knew Tony and Abby would stay out late, and right now it wasn't even midnight, but he'd never lost his nervousness about them being out.

He was tempted to call Tony, maybe see if he could talk him into an earlier evening, maybe even come over, but Gibbs decided it wasn't fair to Abby. She was right. They'd been working on this case for days, and they deserved a night out to decompress.

Maybe he should have gone with them. As soon as he thought that, he shook his head. He couldn't imagine fitting in anywhere the two of them would choose to go. Glancing at the clock again, he saw that it was three minutes later than the last time he’d checked. "Crap," he said. He picked the sandpaper up again, determined to finish at least one section, and began to work it against the wood.

* * *

Abby watched Tony dance around her, and found herself wildly grinning. He had so needed this. It was like five years dropped off his face. And it was fun to watch everyone else watch him. He was gorgeous to begin with, but worked up, with a little sweat, and those hips in action, it was hard to take your eyes off of him. 

Abby was so pleased he was here with her. Not that they were together that way; they'd tried it once and been laughing so hard before they'd even gotten naked, that they'd never gone there again. Besides, no matter how consistently Tony went after the ladies, Abby knew he was much more interested in men, one in particular.

Sometimes the two of them drove her crazy. Before she could let that thought carry her away, Tony had his hands on her waist and he was spinning her across the floor. She let her head drop back and laughed with glee.

* * *

"Why are there no cabs?" she said, a couple hours later. She was tired and cold. The air that had felt so refreshing after the heat of the club, now was chilling. Tony slung his jacket around her shoulders. 

"Let's call for one," he said, pulling his phone out.

"We'll have to wait twenty minutes for one," she protested. "Let's just walk the five blocks up to M Street. We can get a cab there."

"No walking," Tony said. He was scrolling through his contacts.

"You really think they're hiding around the corner to attack us?" she said with a scoff.

"No walking," Tony said again. He hit the send button, and Abby could hear the phone ringing. In a few seconds, Tony was ordering a cab to come pick them up at the club. "What?" he said, a frown on his face. "An hour? I could walk home in an hour," he protested. "Very funny," he said to whatever the person said back to him. He hung up.

"Are we walking?" Abby said.

Two men came out of the club; one of them had been on the dance floor with them for the last hour or so. She recognized his t-shirt. "Hey," she said. "Where are you guys walking to?"

"Up to M Street," the one she recognized said.

"Let's walk with them," Abby said sensibly to Tony. No way would their bad guys go after three guys and a woman.

Tony hesitated for a second, but then he shrugged, acquiescing.

Abby was relieved. The last thing she wanted to do was wait an hour for a cab. She'd rather call Gibbs than do that. If it wasn't two in the morning, she'd call Gibbs. It wouldn't be the first time, although usually she called Tony first.

They all started walking toward M Street, small talk quickly extinguishing. Abby figured they were both as tired as she and Tony. It suddenly dawned on her that they were sort of veering off from the direction she thought they should be going. Tony started slowing down a little so there was some space between them and the two men they were walking with.

"Abby," Tony said quietly. "Don't look, but we've got two guys behind us."

"No way," she said, not willing to go there. "Maybe they're just from the club."

"I don't like it," Tony said tersely. "You need to get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you," she protested.

"Oh, yes, you are," he said. "If these are our four guys, you staying won't make any difference, and you know what they did to those other women."

Abby's stomach roiled. "But, Tony," she began.

"Abby," Tony snapped at her, slowing even more. "Don't make me have to watch them hurt you. Do not. I can't handle it."

"They might kill you," she cried, softly, seeing that their conversation was starting to attract notice. "They could rape you, if they're pissed enough."

"I don't think so," Tony said. "That's not their MO. But they will rape you. All of them. Right now, they don't know we're on to them; they don't know I'm a cop, and I can hold my own for a little while. When I start running toward them, you run as fast as you can until you're around other people. You call 911 and tell them there's an officer down, and then you call Gibbs. Promise me."

"What if they kill you?" she cried again.

"It'll be worth it," Tony said, his eyes blazing with sincerity and fear, "if it means you get away. You understand me?"

She couldn't believe this was happening again. That Tony was about to be beaten to protect her. Again. 

"What's going on?" one of the men called. They started walking toward Tony and Abby. There were alleys on either side of them; the only way toward freedom was the direction they were walking which the two men now blocked.

"Just your typical date argument," Tony said with one of his 'you-can't-help-but-like-me' grins. She's ready for the night to be over, and I want to go over to her place."

"That's not really going to be a problem," the man said, a really disturbing grin on his face.

"Go!" Tony yelled as he barreled into both men, the surprise attack knocking them to the ground.

Abby took off, running toward M Street, yelling her head off, hoping she might scare the men off if they thought someone would come to investigate. She got her phone out, holding it tightly, afraid she'd lose it in her flight; her hands were sweaty with terror. 

Behind her she heard running footsteps and someone yelled, "Get her!" Then she heard Tony yell, and someone hit the ground hard. She put on another burst of steam and managed to hit the numbers 911. Over her shoulder she hollered, "I'm calling the cops right now! Leave him alone!"

She hit M Street, where there were still people around, just as dispatch answered. "Officer down," she cried into the phone, "corner of M street and 31st. Send someone right away."

She could hear the call going out, and then the operator was back, asking who she was. 

"Abby Sciutto," she said, looking over her shoulder, wishing Tony would materialize out of the darkness behind her. She could hear punches being thrown, and the sound of metal, and she had to swallow hard not to throw up. "I'm with NCIS, we were attacked. God, I've got to call Gibbs. Is someone coming?"

"Yes," she was assured. "Units are in the vicinity and are on their way." 

Over her labored breathing, Abby could hear sirens. "They're coming," she yelled into the darkness, hoping they could hear her and stop hurting Tony. She hung up and called Gibbs.

* * *

Gibbs rubbed his eyes as he headed up the stairs. Either they'd forgotten to call, or they were making a night of it. Regardless, he didn't think he could stay awake much longer. Just as he thought that, his phone rang. He retraced his steps down as he'd left it on the workbench. Flipping it open, he hadn't even said his name when Abby screamed into the phone, "Gibbs!" 

Gibbs was already running up the stairs. "Abby, what is it?"

"They're killing Tony!" she sobbed in the phone. 

For just a moment, an endless moment, Gibbs was completely disoriented. It felt as if he were reliving history, remembering so clearly the last time Abby had called, hysterical, needing Gibbs help to protect someone else. "Where are you?" he demanded, already out the door, his keys in his hand.

"M Street and 31st. Hurry!" She let out a sobbing breath. 

"Did you call 911?" he asked, getting the car turned on and squealing out of his driveway. He yanked his police light out of the glove compartment. Gibbs couldn't remember the last time he'd used it, and hoped the batteries really lasted as long as he'd been told. He secured it to the top of his car, the heavy magnets holding it in place, flipping the on switch. He saw the amber glow and took off, not worrying about his speed and certainly not planning to stop at any red lights.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked to keep Abby talking, and to reassure himself that she was all right.

"Tony keeps getting hurt to protect me," she said, sounding understandably distraught.

"What?" That sentence made no sense to Gibbs.

"Tony," she said. "Remember when his dad beat him up? He made me go and leave him behind," she wailed. "I wanted to stay this time. I could have helped him." 

"Wait," Gibbs said, his mind reeling. "This Tony is Anthony?" It seemed so inconceivable. Maybe Abby was just mixed up. But then just thinking about it, so many things slid into place. How easily Tony had trusted Gibbs and felt comfortable around him. How Tony and Abby had become instant best friends. The way Gibbs had felt so connected to his new agent. "Why didn't he tell me?"

Instead of answering, he could hear Abby yelling at the cops, directing them, "Down there, about four blocks. There were four of them. They probably have baseball bats or worse."

"Don't go down there," Gibbs ordered, sure she was ready to go after them.

"But he could be hurt," she said in a shaky voice. "Because of me. Because I said we had to go out. Because I said we could walk. He said no walking, and I said but it's only five blocks, and he said no walking, and I didn't listen, I just asked two guys to walk with us, just invited them along like some kind of idiot, and then there were two guys behind us, and then they started sort of making us go in the wrong direction. And I didn't even notice. I'm such an idiot." 

Her voice was getting louder and faster, and Gibbs could picture her pulling on her pigtails, or however her hair was styled, tears running down her face, and then he saw an Abby twenty years younger sobbing in his arms. "Abby," Gibbs snapped at her. "I need you to pull it together, can you do that? I'm almost there. Keep an eye out for me."

Gibbs could hear running footsteps. "Abby?" he yelled, fearing that someone was after her now.

"It's one of the cops. He's checking on the ambulance," she said. "Is he alive?" she demanded. "Just tell me, is he alive?"

Gibbs heard something indecipherable, and the adrenaline was already swarming his body, making his skin prickle and his heart race as he waited for the answer. All he heard was Abby sob. "Abby! What did he say?" But then he was there, and he saw Abby talking to the cop, and he was shaking his head, and Gibbs refused, absolutely fucking refused to believe that Tony was dead.

Not even paying attention to how he parked the car, he was out and running toward Abby, and then she was racing toward him, and for the second time, history repeated itself as she threw herself into his arms, sobbing wildly.

Gibbs pulled out his badge and showed it to the cop. "That's one of my agents down there. What do you know?"

"He's hurt pretty bad," the cop said, not willing to go into more detail. "He was alone when we got there."

The ambulance drove up, sirens blaring. Gibbs let go of Abby, saying, "Stay here, I'm going down there."

"I want to come," Abby said, pleading.

"It's a crime scene," he said. "Call McGee and Ziva. Tell Ducky to meet us at the hospital." He put his hands on her shoulder. "He's alive, Abby. And you're okay." Gibbs, once again, was in Tony's debt. All he could hope was that Tony would be around to let Gibbs pay it off. Meanwhile, he couldn't wait another second, and he took off down the alley, ignoring the cop who yelled after him.

Tony was lying on the ground and there were three police officers with him. Two were squatting near Tony, and one was keeping guard. Gibbs flashed his badge. "That's my agent."

The two near Tony backed off a little, allowing Gibbs to get in closer.

"These the same guys who've been raping those girls?" One of the cops asked.

"Yes," Gibbs said. He didn't really have enough information to make that declaration, but there had been four of them attacking Tony and Abby. It wasn't too much of a stretch, and if it got him more cooperation he was willing to stretch the truth as much as he needed to. He got down on his knees next to Tony. It was dark and difficult to see. Tony was curled in a fetal position, his arms loosely protecting his face and head. He felt for a pulse, overcome with gratitude when it readily pulsed under his fingertip. "Tony, you with me?" 

There was no response.

The paramedics and stretcher appeared next to Gibbs, a backboard already in place on the ground. Unwillingly, Gibbs got out of their way. They put a neck brace on Tony and then rolled him onto his back in one, synchronized, motion. In a second, he was on the stretcher, and it was being pulled up to its full height for easy rolling.

Gibbs ran next to the stretcher, trying to get some sense of how badly Tony was hurt. It wasn't until they neared the street that Gibbs could see some of the damage done. His face wasn't as badly hurt as the other men, no doubt because Tony, knowing what was coming, had protected himself. But there was still damage. In fact, he looked achingly similar to the way Anthony had looked twenty years ago with his bruised face and blackened eyes, and one of his arms was clearly broken. 

How could he not have known, he asked himself, as the stretcher hit the sidewalk where Abby was standing. Abby just stood there, eyes wide, looking like her heart was broken, watching as they loaded Tony onto the ambulance. "Can you draw sketches?" he asked Abby, wanting to catch these bastards with a vengeance.

She nodded, her eyes watching everything the paramedics were doing to secure Tony. "Two of them," she muttered. "One of them for sure."

Gibbs felt a fierce sense of righteous satisfaction; they'd picked the wrong two this time, and he'd make sure this was the last attack. "I know you want to go to the hospital, but I need you to work on those sketches. Can you do that?"

Her eyes latched onto his, bright with tears. "Will he be all right?"

Gibbs pulled her into his arms. "We already know he's tough as nails, right? Always has been." Pulling back, he asked her. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't he?"

She started to cry again, stuttering out, "Because he didn't want you to remember him like this."

"Stupid idiot," Gibbs said, watching as they closed the doors, sealing Tony away from his sight. "He needs to go to Bethesda," he advised them. Their calm and steady pace told Gibbs that Tony wasn't in imminent danger. He needed to go where they had his records, and where Ducky could be as nosy as he wanted to be.

The driver looked skeptical. There were several hospitals closer, and Gibbs knew they were supposed to go to the closest hospital unless directed to go elsewhere by a physician or the patient. 

"I'm his boss, his emergency contact, and I have his power of attorney," Gibbs said in a voice that demanded obedience. "Take him to Bethesda."

"You got it," the driver said, capitulating easily enough.

* * *

The next two hours crept by. All Gibbs wanted to do was get to the hospital, but he had to wait until McGee and Ziva showed up, then for the equipment to arrive to light up the scene, and then to canvass the area. 

Gibbs waited as patiently as he could for Ducky to call from the hospital, but when too much time went by, he couldn't wait any longer. Ducky picked up on the fifth ring, seconds before the phone was about to get hurled into a brick wall.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked without preamble.

There was an ominous pause.

"Ducky," Gibbs snapped.

"It's a bit too soon to tell, I'm afraid. Tony took a fairly severe blow to the head, and he hasn't regained consciousness yet. He's about to be sent down for a CT scan to determine if he's bleeding into his brain."

His phone rang while he was on with Ducky. Abby's name flashed on his screen. "I'll call you back," Gibbs said quickly. "Abby, what do you have?"

"How's Tony?" she asked before anything else.

"I don't know yet," he said honestly. "Ducky says they're taking him for scans."

There was a long pause, and Gibbs assumed it was Abby needing a minute to pull herself together. "I've got the composite sketches done. I want to go to the hospital." 

"Go," Gibbs responded. "Go find Ducky when you get there." There was no reason for her to look at whatever they'd found at the site. No weapons had been left behind, and there hadn't been much else to find at any of the sites. They had pictures now, though, and Gibbs had no doubt they'd find out who they were tomorrow. Ziva and McGee wouldn't be thrilled at having to work on a Saturday, but they had to stop these guys before they could hurt anyone else. Besides, knowing Tony had been a victim would make them even more willing than usual to do what it took to close the case.

There was another long moment. "He has to be okay, Gibbs. He has to."

"He will be," Gibbs said, as equally unwilling to accept any other outcome. "I'll be there shortly." 

"Can't you leave now? Can you come and get me?"

Abby sounded all of nine again. Gibbs recalled that the last time this happened she hadn't been able to see Tony while Gibbs had at least had the opportunity to see him one more time. It dawned on him that when Tony was better, Gibbs could find out what had happened next in the young boy's life. 

Gibbs knew the best part; Tony had somehow, despite his violent childhood, become one of the good guys. What Gibbs didn't know was how the hell Tony had pulled it off, and who had helped him; Gibbs wanted to meet them so he could thank them.

He glanced back at Ziva and McGee, both looking exhausted. They'd be no good to anyone without a few solid hours of sleep. "Call it a night," he said to them, after telling Abby to hold. "We'll start back up at ten." That was later than usual, but they'd be better for a few hours sleep. 

He ignored the look of relief in their eyes, and the quick look of disbelief they exchanged, as if Gibbs being thoughtful was a sign of the apocalypse.

"I'm on my way, Abs," Gibbs said into the phone. "Meet me out front." The least he could do was be with her at the hospital. He'd need to figure out a way to get a couple hours of sleep as well, but he'd worry about that later.

"You going to the hospital, Boss?" McGee asked.

"Yup," Gibbs said.

"Have you heard anything?" 

"No, they're still running tests."

"So he hasn't woken up yet?" Ziva asked, looking more worried than she had been a second ago.

Gibbs just shook his head, unwilling to waste his time chatting about Tony when he could be with him. "Go get some sleep. Someone will call with an update in the morning." When Tony will be fine, Gibbs added silently to himself. Fine and awake, and already bitching about having to stay in the hospital.

Ziva looked like she wanted to argue. 

Gibbs shot her a look. He didn't want everyone at the hospital. Abby he could handle; Ducky needed to be there. "Get some sleep," he ordered again.

Capitulating, Ziva said wryly, "When he wakes up, tell him we are annoyed with him for making us work a case in the middle of the night."

"I'll do that." Dismissing them from his mind, all his energy now focused on getting to Tony, Gibbs got in his car to drive to NCIS to pick up Abby.

* * *

The scan didn't show anything that the doctors could point their finger at and say 'that's why DiNozzo hasn't woken up yet', which was both good and bad news. At least nothing serious seemed to be going on inside Tony's head. The bad news was that he hadn't woken up yet. 

The waiting was wearing Gibbs out and, right now, he wanted sleep more than he wanted coffee, something that didn't happen very often. 

Abby pointed at the empty bed in Tony's semi-private room. "Sleep. I'll be right here. If he even looks like he's waking up, I'll get you up right away, I promise."

He really did need to get some sleep. They had a case to solve, and Ziva and McGee would be showing up in five hours looking for some direction. With bleary eyes, Gibbs crawled onto the bed, letting Abby tuck a spare blanket around him. With a smile, she kissed him on the cheek. 

Gibbs didn't even have the energy to smile back at her; he just slid into sleep.

* * *

Four hours later, Abby woke Gibbs up so he could clean up and head for the office. Once he was sitting up, she went down the hall to the bathroom. Gibbs heard a small groan and his eyes, which had felt crusted shut, flew open. Tony was squinting against the morning sun. "Abby okay?" His voice was husky with sleep.

Gibbs had another moment of disorientation. He could swear that was the exact same question the younger Tony had asked. "She's fine," Gibbs told him. "Thanks to you. Again."

Tony flashed Gibbs a confused look, as if he wasn't sure what Gibbs meant. "How do I look?" he asked cautiously.

"If you're asking if you still have a pretty face," Gibbs said, guessing that would be a concern, given how the other victims' faces had been beaten into custard. "You do. You have a busted arm, your kidneys took a hit hard enough to turn your urine a little bloody, but there shouldn't be any lasting damage. You're bruised and scraped up, and you have a goose egg on the back of your head, but all in all, you got off easy." Not that Gibbs still didn't want to find all four of those men and rip their balls off. 

"And Abs is really okay?"

"She's fine. Worried about you, but fine."

"I can't believe we walked right into it," Tony said with a disgusted shake of his head which resulted in a serious wince, and an "Ow." Tony reached up with the hand that wasn't casted and touched his face, and then the back of his head. "Ow," he said again.

"Need something for pain?" Gibbs asked.

"You know what?" Tony said. "I think I do." He closed his eyes, his breath guarded, and his body tense.

Gibbs hit the call button. When the unit clerk answered, he said, "Tony's awake and he needs something for pain." He figured he'd get a whole crew in here wanting to examine Tony. Before they came in, Gibbs walked over to the bed. "Thank you. For taking care of Abby. Again." He emphasized the word this time, hoping Tony would get it.

Tony opened his eyes. "Guess that cat's out of the bag, huh?"

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "And I have a lot of questions."

"Do I have to answer them now?" Tony asked plaintively.

Gibbs shot him a lopsided smile. "No, not now. But you will."

"Guess it won't be over dinner tonight, though," Tony said, his voice even tighter, evidence of how much pain he was in. Gibbs was giving the nurse five more seconds and then he was going to get her.

She showed up at the count of three with a doctor in tow. Gibbs let their voices wash over him as he kept his eye on Tony, just drinking him in. It was so strange to see not only the agent who had become so dear and necessary to him, but also to see the twelve-year-old who had made such a lasting impression on him so many years ago. 

After a few minutes, after shining a light in his eyes, asking him questions, and checking his reflexes, they finally gave Tony something for pain and he slipped under, his body relaxing.

Gibbs relaxed right along with him, and when Abby walked in, he smiled at her.

"He woke up?" Abby said, part jubilant, part annoyed that she'd missed it.

"First thing he did was ask about you," Gibbs told her. "Just like last time."

"Aww," Abby said, looking fondly at Tony. "He's so awesome." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "You better go. I'll stick around."

"Only if you take a nap," he instructed. "You've been up all night, too." Abby looked as exhausted as Gibbs felt, except she at least had her age going for her.

Acquiescing easier than Gibbs expected, Abby nodded and crawled into bed. "You talked me into it." She yawned, popping her jaw. "He's really all right?"

"He's fine," Gibbs assured her. "You did good, Abby. I didn't have a chance to tell you last night, but you ran when you should have, and you kept your head, and did what you could to cut short on the time they had with Tony. Thanks." He kissed her on the forehead. "And if it's all the same to you, I'd just as soon never get a call like that from you again. Twice in a lifetime is twice too many."

She nodded emphatically. "No arguments here." She yawned again. "And no more Tony getting beat up."

Gibbs couldn't agree more. "Is his father still alive?" Gibbs thought he was, based on comments Tony had made, but now he wasn't sure what was true and what was smokescreen.

"Yeah," Abby said, her voice growing heavy with sleep. "Bastard." And then she was out.

Wishing he didn't have to go, Gibbs looked at his two favorite people in the world, sending a grateful prayer skyward that they were all right. Then he grinned when his third favorite person walked in. "Hey, Ducky."

"I see by your expression that Anthony has awoken," Ducky said with a tired smile. Then, softer, realizing Abby and Tony were both asleep, added, "He's all right?"

"He's fine," Gibbs said. "I have to go to the office, and you probably need to get some sleep yourself."

"Very true," Ducky admitted. "I'm not as young as I once was. When I was in medical school, they had us working twenty-four hours a day, days at a time. It was a wonder we didn't mismanage all our patients. I remember one time--"

"Ducky," Gibbs said as kindly as he could, "save it for later. Go home. Tony's fine, and Abby's here if he needs something. I'll walk you out."

Agreeable with that, Ducky accompanied Gibbs to the front door where they each went their separate ways toward their vehicles.

* * *

Gibbs bided his time while Tony was in the hospital, but when he was discharged he brought him back to his house to stay for a few days, determined to bridge the gap of the last twenty years. By the time Tony had finally been seen by his doctor and officially discharged, gotten his prescriptions filled, swung by his place to pick up some clothes, and then accompanied Gibbs while he made a quick run to the grocery store, it was almost dinner time. Gibbs settled Tony on the couch.

"I don't need a babysitter," Tony sort of growled.

"I want you here," Gibbs said.

That sort of knocked the wind out of Tony's sails, and he furrowed his brow. He looked like he wasn't sure if he should be pleased or worried.

"That's not a bad thing," Gibbs said, trying to help, enjoying Tony's confusion. He hoped if he could keep Tony a little off balance, he might have a better shot at getting the truth out of him.

"You know where the guest room is," he told him.

"The guest room?" Tony asked, now looking disappointed.

"I think it's rushing things a little to have you sleep in with me," Gibbs said. Of that he was sure. They'd hadn't even kissed yet, or even talked about kissing. They'd exchanged one fiery look. Period.

Tony frowned but seemed to accept his current lot in life, getting up and putting his bag in the guest bedroom. When he came out, he said, "I've been thinking about the attack."

All four of their perps had been apprehended and were under lock and key, and Gibbs was going to make sure they stayed there. Abby and Tony had been able to identify them, as had a couple of the men and women who had been previously attacked. Even though it was all tied up nice and neat, Gibbs felt uneasy. "And?" He pulled out two beers, deciding one couldn't hurt Tony even if he was on pain pills.

They settled back on the couch in the little used living room. In fact, the last time it had been used was when Tony had stayed with him before. "Don't you find it a little, well, coincidental, that out of all the bars in all of Georgetown, heck, all of Washington, far from any of the other attacks, they just happened to be there and to choose us?"

"You think they targeted you? Why?"

"Maybe they saw me investigating the case."

Gibbs supposed it was possible. "And Abby?"

"Just made the mistake of being with me at the wrong time," Tony said bleakly.

Gibbs wanted to smack him, but he knew the back of Tony's head was still sore. "Seems to me, Abby's safest when she's with you," he pointed out.

Tony let his head sag back on the couch, not agreeing, Gibbs noticed.

"It doesn't matter," Gibbs said, "because they're all locked up, and they won't get to you again." Gibbs couldn't put his finger on what was making him uneasy. Maybe Tony was right, but even if he was, he was safe for the moment. 

"I suppose," Tony muttered. "But…" He stopped, pursing his lips, forehead creased. "I don't know. Maybe it's the pain pills."

"What happened to you, Tony?"

Tony glanced at him, as if unsure what was being asked. 

"I went to see you at the hospital, and you were gone. Your father had moved you to another hospital. What happened?" Gibbs wished he could see into Tony's brain, to get every detail, to somehow see for himself how that younger Tony had turned into this Tony.

Tony didn't answer for a while, and Gibbs wondered if he'd fallen asleep. "Tony?"

"I don't know where to start," Tony admitted.

"You don't know how often I've thought of you over the years," Gibbs confessed. "How guilty I felt that I was able to protect Abby but not you. How often I've wondered how you survived, if your father kept beating you, if you were even still alive, and if you were, what kind of man you turned into."

Tony turned his head so he was facing Gibbs. "I thought of you, too."

Gibbs wasn't quite sure how to take that.

"I never actually thanked you, did I?" Tony asked, instead of explaining.

"For what?"

"For pissing off my dad so much," Tony said with a small grin.

Gibbs got a sinking feeling in his gut. Had he, inadvertently, made Tony's life harder?

"Get that look off your face," Tony said, taking a sip of beer. "I meant that in a good way."

Gibbs couldn't imagine how.

"I was talking to McGee at one of the rape scenes, and I told him how when things are really bad you remember it when people are kind," Tony said quietly. "The way you treated Abby, the way you were willing to deal with me, the words you said to me at the hospital? It all mattered. A lot."

Sitting there quietly, Gibbs waited for more.

"You told me," Tony said, "not to forget that there were good people out there. Do you remember?"

Gibbs' exact words were fuzzy in his mind, but he nodded anyway.

"It's hard to believe that kind of stuff when your dad beats you up and no one does anything to stop it," Tony admitted. 

"Had he beaten you that badly before?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. It was kind of cyclical. He'd be okay, and then he'd start getting depressed, and then it would get worse and worse, and whatever wife he had at the time would make herself scarce, and the staff hid, so that sort of left me. There were staff along the way that hid me, too, but they'd always be gone within a week. He paid well, and he employed people who couldn't afford to lose their jobs."

"Tony, I’m sorry," Gibbs said, pained at this bleak description of Tony's life. "I wish I'd found a way."

"You did, though," Tony stopped him. "I meant what I said. That pissing off my dad that much was a good thing."

"Tell me how?"

"Remember how I said my father disowned me when I was twelve?"

Gibbs nodded. "I thought you were joking."

"Wasn't."

"He disowned you? Because of what happened with Abby and me?"

"Big time," Tony said, with a wry grin. "Said he never wanted to see me again, that I was a disgrace to the family." 

Gibbs wanted to punch the older DiNozzo in the face.

It made Tony beam. "Sweet words, Gibbs. Jethro," he unexpectedly tried on for size. 

"What do you mean?"

"He sent me to live with his sister," Tony said. "He thought he was condemning me to a fate worse than death, because his sister, my Aunt Carolyn, had already defied the family, taking on the occasional lesbian lover, and then had the temerity to choose to be an artist instead of an accountant. He thought he was throwing more trash on the dung heap."

Gibbs heard a big but. "But?" he prompted.

"My Aunt Carolyn was a little nutty," Tony admitted with a slight eye roll, "but she never hit me. She didn't have a maternal bone in her body, and she was kind of a slut, but she was funny, and she loved to take me to the movies, and she couldn't stand my father." Tony grinned, although it was a little sad. "I suspect that he hit her, too; he was a lot older than her, but we never talked about it."

Gibbs wondered whom Tony had talked to about it.

"After he sent me away, I never saw him again, and the only time I heard from him was a present at Christmas. No doubt bought by some assistant who had a list from my father of all the obligatory Christmas gifts that had to be bought and sent. Pearls for the women, power sanders for the men. Sort of like Bill Murray in Scrooged," he added, "VCRs or towels." Tony put his hands out like a scale, weighing objects. "Power sander, towels, power sander, towels. I'd rather have had the towels, I think." He smiled tightly at Gibbs.

Gibbs began to think he'd need to start a list of all the movies Tony mentioned in conversations like these so he could see the moments Tony related to. 

"Is she still alive?"

"No," Tony said, "she died when I was twenty." He let out a soft chuff of unhappy laughter. "I thought of you a lot then, sort of wishing you'd just show up."

"Why didn't you try to find me?" Gibbs asked, wishing he had shown up, that he'd been able to keep track of the boy. Then he put the dates together in his mind. "Not that I'd have been much good to you," he admitted. "My wife and daughter died that year." He wasn't sure why he was telling Tony the secret that very few people knew, but it seemed the sort of conversation where confidences were shared.

"Boss," Tony said, sitting up, his eyes kind and worried. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It was a bad time," Gibbs admitted. "A really bad time. I think you'd have been the one helping me out."

"I would have if I'd been around," Tony said. "Not that I would’ve known what to do, but I could have kept you company, made you coffee. I used to make Carolyn her coffee all the time."

"I was drinking stronger stuff at the time, and I sincerely hope I would have pulled it together well enough to keep a kid from pouring me shots of whiskey," Gibbs said tightly. Jesus. Maybe it would have helped. Maybe he and Tony could have helped each other.

"How old was your daughter?" Tony asked.

"Eight," Gibbs said.

Tony winced. "How did they die?"

"They were killed by a drug dealer," Gibbs said, the old pain rising inside of him. "I was overseas when I heard the news."

The next thing Gibbs knew, Tony had shifted over, wrapped his arms around him, and was holding him tightly. Something small and ugly inside of Gibbs tried to push him away. "I don't need your pity," he snarled.

"Shut the fuck up," Tony said, not letting go. "If you can feel badly for me because of my dad hitting me, then I sure as hell can feel bad that your wife and child were killed. Jesus, Jethro. Suck it up and hug me back."

Gibbs struggled internally for another few seconds, but then he relaxed in Tony's arms and held him back just as tightly, taking solace in the fact that at least he'd gotten this part of his past back, alive and whole.

After a while, they shifted until they were both lying on the couch, Tony laying flat, head on a pillow, and Gibbs resting against the back of the couch, so they could easily talk. 

"I can't imagine anything worse than losing a child," Tony said softly, the fingers from his casted arm linking with Gibbs'.

"It's right above children who get beaten unconscious by their father," Gibbs said back, his fingers squeezing Tony's hand. Then, trying to lighten the mood, asked, "Did you keep in touch with Abby?"

"Nah," Tony said. "I would’ve liked to, but first my father had me transferred to some private hospital in upstate New York, and then he shipped me off to San Francisco where my aunt lived. For a while there, I was mostly just trying to figure things out, and get used to my new life, and by then a couple years had gone by, and…" He shrugged. "But I never stopped thinking about either of you."

"Why didn't you tell me who you were when we were working that case in Baltimore?" 

Tony shrugged again, and Gibbs realized at that moment that most of Tony's body was pressed against his. He tried to push down his instant and inappropriate arousal.

"I don't know," Tony said. "At first, I thought maybe you just didn't want to talk about it. We were working a case; you had other things on your mind. I figured we'd talk about it later; that it was why you'd offered me a job."

"I offered you a job," Gibbs snapped, "because you were a good cop." He wondered if he'd have offered Tony a job if he'd remembered him. Probably not, but he'd have figured out a way to stay in touch.

"Yeah, I figured that part out," Tony returned. "After you introduced me to Abby, and not in a way that made any sense if you remembered me, I realized that you didn’t."

"I never forgot you," Gibbs said a little defensively.

"Hey, don't feel bad. Abby didn't remember me either, I mean, she remembered me as soon as I told her who I was, but she didn't recognize that I was that kid she met a long time ago. On the other hand, her tattoo is kind of hard to forget," Tony said with a chuff of laughter.

Gibbs snickered. "Hard to ignore that. Odd to think that we might not have met if she hadn't gotten it, though."

Tony squeezed him as if that thought wasn't a comfortable one. "Anyway," he continued, "I decided it didn't matter, that seeing as I pissed you off all the time anyway, given the number of glares and head slaps I was getting on a regular basis, the last thing you needed to remember was me lying in that hospital bed, all beat to shit."

"I'd rather have known it was you, than to be able to smack you upside the head." Then, appalled, he added. "Jesus, Tony, you let me hit you."

"Just love taps," Tony promised. "And I needed them. Still need them. I defied my father constantly when I was a kid, and then when I moved to my aunt's, I never had anyone set limits for me again. I was pretty wild."

"You're still pretty wild," Gibbs said.

"I know. And then there you were, being fair, and kind, and slapping me upside the head when I screwed up. It felt good."

Not feeling appeased, Gibbs said, "I don't exactly want to be cast in the role of father figure here, you know." 

"I'm not the one who put me in the guest room," Tony pointed out. 

Gibbs frowned at him.

"Besides," Tony said with a grin, "you weren't a father figure to me, you were one of those good people you told me about. And it didn’t seem like you minded having me around once I started working for you."

Gibbs could hear the young boy in Tony's voice. The boy who would have then, and still did now, find it hard to believe that people would find him worth their time. "I never minded," Gibbs said. "Back when you were Anthony, or once you started working for me. In fact, I love having you around. You're good for me and for the team. You make me laugh, and not much makes me laugh anymore."

"Why is that?" Tony asked, his hand now playing with the buttons on Gibbs' shirt. "I mean, I get with your wife and daughter, but you got married three more times, so you had to be in love, or something close enough. Some of that must have been good times."

"All three marriages ended badly," Gibbs said flatly. "I never should have gotten married again."

"She was it for you?" Tony asked quietly, and a little sadly.

"They sure weren't," Gibbs said, wanting to get the words right. "But if you're asking me if I could fall in love again, the answer's yes. With the right person. With someone who understands how life can screw you up and turn you into a bastard. With someone who can make me laugh and help me maybe not be such a bastard."

"Is that why you love Abby so much?" Tony asked with a bit of a forced smile. "Because you can be someone who isn't a bastard with her?"

"That's part of it," Gibbs admitted. "But I wasn't talking about her."

Tony stared at him, his eyes open and vulnerable. Gibbs leaned down, his lips lightly touching Tony's. After that little taste, he wanted another, so he touched again, longer, more firmly. Tony's lips were soft, felt full against his own, and then Tony's tongue snuck out to barely brush their lips, lightly wetting them.

Gibbs groaned, dropping his head to Tony's shoulder, fighting back the need to ravage the man. While this sizzling attraction boded well for their future sex life, now wasn't the time. As much as Tony wasn't one to whine about something important, he'd been wincing enough as they'd shifted to let Gibbs know he was hurting.

"It feels like it's always been you," Tony said, pressing a kiss against Gibbs' hair. "Not in a creepy way, like I wanted you when I was twelve. Ugh. But in a you-sort-of-took-over-my-brain kind of way. You and Abby. It was like anyone I met, male or female, I compared them to you. Did they laugh like Abby, or find life as exciting as Abby, were they as loyal as Abby, or as goofy? With guys it was all about were they as good as you, did they protect people like you did, did they smile like you? Not many people measured up," he added truthfully. 

Gibbs lifted his head back up, gazing at Tony, reaching out to cup the younger man's face, thumb brushing his cheek. He'd had no idea he'd had as lasting an impact on Tony as the younger version had had on him. He wasn't sure whether to apologize again or thank his lucky stars. "Did you and Abby…" he couldn't finish his question, the surge of jealousy making his throat tight.

"We tried, once," Tony admitted with a broad grin. "It was a disaster. We couldn't stop laughing; I swear to God, I almost peed my pants, I was laughing so hard." He laughed for a few seconds, as if he couldn't help himself.

Gibbs found himself grinning back, almost picturing it. 

"Anyway," Tony continued, "not to sound stalkerish, but once I found you again, you've kind of always been it for me. Does that terrify you?" he asked, his face scrunched up in anticipation of being slapped down.

Running his thumb over Tony's lips, Gibbs shook his head no. "No, it doesn't. Not in the slightest." He leaned down to touch their lips together again, and then again. Tony opened his mouth, an invitation Gibbs couldn't resist, and he pushed inside, heady with arousal and satisfaction.

Tony shifted and tugged, and Gibbs found himself lying on top of Tony, one of Tony's legs around his thigh, keeping them close enough to feel matching erections. Gibbs tried to be conscious of Tony's wounds, of his broken arm, and sore ribs, and he tried not to push too hard, or want too much that he'd lose track, but when Tony let out one too many grunts that sounded of more pain than pleasure, Gibbs rolled back to the side. "Tony, we have to stop."

Despite the grunts, Tony didn't seem to like that idea at all. He pulled at Gibbs, trying to get their bodies back in alignment. "I'm fine," he said, even as Gibbs accidentally rolled on Tony's cast and a flare of agony raced across Tony's face.

"Jesus," Gibbs said, sitting up.

"Okay, I'll admit," Tony said, a little breathless, clutching his arm to his chest, "that one hurt, but the rest of it, I barely noticed.”

"Well, I noticed," Gibbs said sharply. But, even knowing that, seeing Tony so attractively mussed, knowing it was his hands that had Tony's hair in disarray, and his lips that had Tony's all swollen, it was impossible not to steal another kiss, not to run his hand down Tony's chest to his groin, to cup him through his jeans, to watch Tony's face as he arched his neck, pushing into Gibbs' hand, letting out a breathy moan.

Gibbs' cell phone began to ring. Then, Tony's went off.

"Fuck," Tony said, closing his eyes. "That can't be good." 

Gibbs silently echoed the sentiment, even as he stood up to retrieve both phones. He opened his, "Gibbs."

"Is Tony with you, boss?" came McGee's anxious voice.

"Yes," Gibbs said. "Why?" He heard Tony answering his phone behind him.

"Good,” McGee said in relief. 

“Why?” Gibbs bit out. Not that he didn’t agree, but his instincts told him something bad was going on.

"Um, his apartment building's on fire. It's on the news."

Tony was already up, heading toward the basement where the only TV was. Gibbs followed him, one hand out in case Tony got wobbly walking down the stairs. In moments Tony had the TV on, flipped to the local news station, and they stood there watching his building burning brightly.

"Maybe I'm paranoid," Tony said. There was clearly no need to go racing over to rescue any of Tony’s belongings. The place was an inferno.

"I'm beginning to think you're not," Gibbs said, wrapping his arms around Tony's torso, standing behind him. "No reason to think you wouldn't go home after being discharged."

"Any other injury, before now, and I would have," Tony said, wrapping his hands around Gibbs' arms, as if making sure Gibbs wouldn't let go. "And I'd be a Tony barbecue."

Gibbs didn't even want to think about that. "I'm sorry about all your things," he said.

Tony shrugged against him. "I've got excellent rental insurance," he said fatalistically.

"Yeah, but all your personal stuff," Gibbs protested.

"Ask me in a few days, and I'm sure I'll be thinking of all the things I lost and be mad as hell about it, but right now, being alive and standing here with you, after just kissing you, and pretty definitely declaring our intentions to one another, I feel pretty lucky."

Gibbs could understand that. He watched the flames dance, feeling deeply disturbed by his thoughts. "Who'd be after you? If there really is someone trying to kill you, they absolutely don't care about collateral damage. I'm not sure everyone would have had time to get out of there," he said, gesturing toward the TV where flames leaped into the sky. "And if those four men were all about attacking you, they brutally went after three other couples first. Why do that?"

"To make my death seem accidental?" Tony said. "Just another attack that went wrong and left me dead? Just one more apartment death in a fire that claimed multiple lives?" He pulled away from Gibbs. "I need to go there. I have friends there."

The TV reporter mentioned something about a furnace explosion being the cause of the fire.

"Whoever it was is probably there, watching," Gibbs said. "I don't know that we want them to know you're alive just yet."

Tony let out a long sigh. "Shit. Gibbs, people are dying because of me."

"No, they're dying because of some fucked up asshole who wants you dead. And that’s assuming we’re correct, and this isn’t just a streak of really bad luck." Gibbs didn't believe it, but he wished it were true as it was less disturbing than the thought of someone that vicious coming after Tony. 

“If I’m the common element next time, I guess we’ll know for sure.”

Not a comforting thought. “Assuming he continues to throw such a wide net, and doesn’t just decide to take you out with a sniper’s rifle,” Gibbs said darkly. His arms tightened around Tony.

“I really need to go. There’re a lot of elderly people who live there. Even the ones that got out will be confused. They’ll be looking for me.”

Gibbs didn’t want Tony to go anywhere, not if it meant that he would be making himself an easy target. But, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t keep Tony a prisoner here.

"If he's there, it's because he's gloating," Tony said. "I can't imagine he came prepared to take me out on the off chance I'd get out."

"Why not?" Gibbs argued. "Who'd even notice a bullet shot in that confusion?"

"I need to go," Tony said implacably.

"Okay," Gibbs conceded. "Let's go then. But at least wear a baseball cap to help disguise your face." Gibbs dug one out that didn't have NCIS emblazoned on it.

"That I can do," Tony said, taking it from Gibbs and putting it on.

* * *

The place was a zoo. A discreetly shown ID got Gibbs and Tony closer to the ambulances, but only a fool would get closer to the apartments. Whoever did this was brutal in their choice of accelerant. Gibbs didn't like what that said about their guy. 

Tony moved from one ambulance to another, talking to his neighbors, kidding with them, coaxing smiles from tear-stained faces. It was obvious to Gibbs that he was a well-thought of neighbor, probably more of a son to a lot of these folks, than anything else.

By the time Tony made his way back to Gibbs, his face was somber. "There're a lot missing. Too many. Jesus." His eyes were desolate as they stared at the flames.

"Some ambulances have probably already come and gone, and some might have gotten out on their own and not needed medical assistance," Gibbs said, looking around for a likely group. He caught a woman in a nightgown. "How about her?" he pointed out.

A flash of relief crossed Tony's face, and he jogged over to her. "Mary," he called.

"Tony," she cried out. "We were so worried." A group of people gathered around Tony, mostly older, but a few Tony's age, including a couple of very attractive young women who clung onto Tony. Gibbs decided to cut them some slack, but only because their home was in flames, and only for tonight. Given the evening's events, and possibly what Tony did for a living, no one seemed particularly surprised by how bruised up Tony was.

Tony seemed to be checking everyone out for injuries, and Gibbs took the opportunity to see if anyone was checking Tony out. He cast his eyes around, trying not to be obvious about it. When he'd almost done a complete circle, he saw movement on a hilltop. Wishing he had binoculars, he stayed still, trying to get a better view.

It looked like a man was doing the same thing, shifting slightly, almost as if with the right angle, he'd see a face better. The man glanced around then came a little closer. Gibbs still couldn't make out any features, except that he was tall with a moderate build. 

He flipped open his phone and called Ziva. "You here?" he asked without introduction.

"Yes," was her succinct answer.

Turning around so his back was to whom he was interested in, he asked, "See the man up on the hill, west of the apartment building, on the same line as the edge of the parking lot?"

"Yes," she said.

"Get as close as you can; try to get a good look at him. If he leaves, follow him. Do not engage."

The phone disconnected and he smirked at it. He walked over to Tony where he was still surrounded. "DiNozzo," he called when he was still a few feet away.

"Hey, boss, get over here." 

Gibbs obliged by joining them, standing next to Tony.

Tony put his arm around Gibbs' shoulder. "Everyone, this is Gibbs. He's my boss. Looks like I'll be staying with him for a while. Boss, this is everyone." His face sobered. "Even with everyone here, and the people who ended up needing medical care, there're still about ten unaccounted for."

Gibbs glanced at the firemen. It was clear no one else was going in the building. Right now, all they were doing was trying to keep the fire from spreading to another property. "I'm sorry."

"Do you all have places to stay?" Tony asked. 

Tony did a head count, found out who had cars and places to stay, until he was left with five of the older women. Gibbs fully expected him to invite them to stay at his house and he was mentally counting blankets and pillows. Instead, though, Tony pulled out his phone, flipped it open, pressed a few buttons and walked several feet away. Gibbs overheard him talking to someone who sounded like a good friend. In a matter of minutes, Tony seemed to have everything taken care of. "One of my closest friends is the big boss at the Westin Grand. They're sending a limousine to pick you up," Tony told the five women. "She's going to have them open up the main gift shop, the one with clothes, so you can all get something to sleep in, some toiletries, and something casual to wear tomorrow. Get anything you need."

One of the older women gave Tony a hug. "Are you paying for all of this, dear boy?"

"Not a dime," Tony said, "although I'd be glad to. Dana's good people. She'll take care of you. I promise." 

Gibbs was filled with affection for his agent, pleased at how he'd taken care of his friends. He noticed Tony was looking back at the apartment building, so Gibbs allowed his gaze to be captured as well. It was mesmerizing in a deadly kind of way, especially as it was a tomb for several people. 

Despite the circumstances, the women looked thrilled when the limousine showed up fifteen minutes later. Tony got them situated inside, then joined them long enough to pop open a bottle of champagne. He poured them all a glass, then one each for him and Gibbs, who was standing by the door.

"In celebration of being alive," Tony said. Everyone took a sip.

"And in recognition of those we won't see again," one of the women added somberly.

"Amen," Tony said, swigging the rest of his drink. "I mean it, ladies. Get whatever you need from the store. Dana insisted. In fact, if I know her, she'll be there waiting for you, pushing stuff at you. I'll come by tomorrow to visit, and we'll figure everything out."

The women smiled, some with tears in their eyes; exhaustion and fear mixed with relief and Tony's TLC, finally taking a toll. Tony put his empty glass in a cubby hole. "Ladies, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

That got a few titters, and then with another smile, Tony shut the door, and he and Gibbs watched the limousine drive off.

"That was nice of you," Gibbs said.

"It was nice of Dana. This is gonna cost her a bundle, because even the ones with renter’s insurance won’t have enough to pay for a room at the Westin. But," Tony said with a grin, "I know how to make it up to her." A reporter was wandering around, so Tony grabbed her. "Want a human interest story?"

"Sure," she said, pulling up her microphone.

"No, no, not me," he said. He told her about Dana and the Westin Grand. 

The reporter's eyes lit up, and with a frantic wave at the cameraman to hurry up, they took off running for their van.

"You sure your friend will be okay getting attacked by a reporter?" Gibbs asked.

"Positive," Tony said. "She loves attention, and she'll come off as the hero, and so will the Westin Grand. Win win for everyone. Plus it will bring some attention to those women who are now homeless, and hopefully get them some support."

Gibbs was impressed. And jealous. "How do you know her?" 

Tony grinned at him. "Sorority sister," he said. "Are you jealous?"

Gibbs just glared at Tony.

"You are," Tony crowed. "You are jealous."

"Can we go now?"

Tony leaned in. "Don't be jealous. You have nothing, I repeat, nothing to be jealous about. I've wanted you for so long, that for the past few years everyone else has been pretty much a stand in for you. And no, I never slept with Dana."

Gibbs was bowled over by Tony's reassurances, and appreciative of the last tacked on sentence. It would be easier to be pleasant to Dana, if and when they met, if he knew she wasn't a rival in any way.

Ziva appeared next to Gibbs, and Tony nearly jumped out of his skin, grasping at his heart. "Ziva, don't do that."

Ziva looked Tony over, no doubt to make sure he was okay. To Gibbs she said, "I got his picture, not sure how clear it is."

"Whose picture?" Tony asked.

"Someone who looked like they were watching you."

Ziva pulled the picture up in her phone and showed it to Tony. "Look familiar?"

"No," Tony said. "But, it's a little dark. Abby might be able to clear it up."

Ziva nodding, scowling at the picture. "Do you need a place to stay?" she asked.

"Nah," Tony said with a thankful grin. "I'll be staying with Gibbs. Fortunately, I was staying there tonight and not at home." He shot a dismayed look at the soon-to-be rubble of his apartment building. "I'd probably be there right now. I'd have probably taken a couple pain pills." He left the rest of that sentence unspoken but Gibbs could see the same troubled look on Ziva's face that he was sure was on his own.

"I'm sorry about your things," Ziva said.

"Yeah," Tony said, biting his lower lip. "Me, too." Then, as if remembering the picture Ziva had shown him, and the conversation, he frowned. "You think someone was here looking for me?"

Gibbs nodded. "I do."

"Did he see me?"

"Yes," Ziva said. "I was a little to the side of you when I saw him straighten up, curse, and then walk away."

"Sort of how everyone acts when they see DiNozzo," McGee volunteered from behind Tony.

"Hysterical," Tony muttered.

"Did you see where he went?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva looked a little shamefaced. "I lost him." She opened her mouth as if to explain, but then just shook her head. "Sorry."

"Are you thinking that both the attacks and this fire were all to try to kill Tony?" McGee asked, almost incredulously.

"I'm with Tim here," Tony said. "That's an extreme amount of work just to kill me. There're easier ways."

Gibbs wasn't enjoying this conversation at all, or the fact that they were out in the open with a thinning crowd. 

"Let's get inside somewhere."

"Tony!" came a yell, and Abby slammed into Tony, grabbing him hard.

"Abs," Tony said. "Easy. I don't need any more broken bones."

"Sorry," Abby said penitently, easing off a little. "I knew you were with Gibbs, but still." She stared at the burning apartment, pouting on Tony's behalf. "Everything you own."

"Not everything," Tony said. "I had a bag at Gibbs, and I have some important stuff in various safe deposit boxes."

"Various?" McGee asked, brow furrowed.

"For all the drugs and gold bullion," Tony said easily. "Oh, and the millions in stolen diamonds."

McGee shot him an exasperated look.

"I learned kind of early to have your most important stuff that couldn't be replaced stashed somewhere other than home," Tony finally said. "Photo negatives, important papers, things like that."

Gibbs guessed there was more to it than that, but he'd ask Tony about it later. 

Tony yawned, and Gibbs noticed how tired he looked. "Let's call it a night," Gibbs said. He wanted to get Tony someplace safe. 

"I'll round up reports tomorrow," Abby offered, "see what the official story is."

"I'll help," McGee offered.

Gibbs knew that between the two of them nothing would be missed.

"I'll work with Abby on the photo," Ziva said.

"And I suspect Tony and I will be at the Westin Grand for part of the day," Gibbs threw out without explanation, enjoying the exchanged looks of confusion between Abby, McGee and Ziva, and the grin from Tony. Not that Gibbs wanted to spend the day there, not when there was someone out there trying to kill Tony, but he knew Tony would insist. "We'll talk later in the day."

There were nods all around, Abby gave Tony another hug, and they all headed for their cars, Tony almost stumbling at this point. "It's been a long couple of weeks," Tony admitted as they made it to the car.

"Just get in," Gibbs bit out, suddenly anxious about what an easy target Tony was right now.

"I'm in," Tony said, "I'm in." 

Then he was in, and Gibbs relaxed a bit, although he looked around before getting in himself. There were still people milling but no one acting the least bit furtive. Gibbs sat down, got the car turned on, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"How come you never used the lights before?" Tony asked through a yawn, pointing toward the roof. "It might be more sporting of you if people knew to get out of your way when you're driving someplace."

Just for that, Gibbs reached up and yanked the lights off, bringing them in the car, shutting off the mechanism. He handed it to Tony, but hands didn't reach out to take it. When Gibbs looked over, he saw that Tony was fast asleep.

* * *

Even after Abby got the picture cleaned up, Tony didn't recognize the man in the photograph. There was something familiar about him, but Gibbs couldn't put his finger on it. Abby was running the facial recognition software, but nothing had matched up yet.

It had been a long day, the only two bright spots being waking up with Tony, and spending the day with Tony. It had been interesting to watch Tony's friend Dana do her magic at the Westin Grand, and all five of the women were splitting two suites amongst them for the immediate future, until a place for them to stay could be determined. However, at the same time, it was hard for Gibbs to let the hours pass by and not be actively looking for Tony's killer. 

He'd already seen Tony shooting him looks, and Gibbs suspected Tony was sick of Gibbs constantly shifting Tony's position, keeping him away from open windows and hallways with too many access points. Gibbs thought it was just too bad for Tony, because he wasn't taking any chances. 

He also knew Tony was annoyed because all they'd done was sleep Friday and Saturday night. They had shared a bed, but Tony had been tired and in pain, despite what the man had to say, and Gibbs had been too distracted by every noise he heard. Because Ziva had lost their suspect, there was no way to tell if he had followed Gibbs and Tony back to his house.

Finally, much to Gibbs' relief, and Tony's dissatisfaction, they were all back in the office, even though it was Sunday. 

"He looks a little familiar, doesn't he?" Abby asked, squinting her eyes at the photo. 

Tony was seated at his desk, leaning back, his broken arm resting on his chest. Gibbs was leaning against Tony's desk top. His own desk had felt too far away. 

"There is something familiar about him," Ziva said, giving the photo up on the large screen some serious scrutiny. "Something about the eyes?"

"Maybe the nose?" McGee offered.

Gibbs growled. "If he's familiar to all of you, then he must be someone we see on a regular basis."

"Does he seem familiar to you?" Abby asked Gibbs.

Now it was Gibbs turn to study the photo. "Maybe. Where would we all see the same person?"

"Here," McGee said.

"Any of the restaurants we frequently get lunch at," Ziva added.

"The shooting range," McGee threw in.

"Why are you still standing here?" Gibbs snapped.

"I'll print some copies of the picture for you guys to take," Abby said, jumping up.

"I'll take the shooting range," Ziva offered.

"Restaurants," McGee volunteered.

"Tony and I will look at NCIS employee files," Gibbs said. "And I need to re-interview our four suspects from the rape cases, see if someone paid them to ultimately go after DiNozzo."

"Oh, joy," Tony muttered, loud enough for Gibbs to hear.

"Get going," Gibbs snarled to everyone, not interested in Tony's whining, and not about to let it get in the way of Gibbs keeping him alive.

In a few minutes, everyone was gone, and Gibbs now leaned on McGee's desk, watching Tony. After a couple of minutes, Tony opened his eyes. "Hey," Tony said.

"I'm not going to let whoever this is kill you," Gibbs said brusquely.

"Come here," Tony said, crooking his finger.

"Security cameras," Gibbs warned.

"I know, just come here."

Gibbs walked over until he was looking down at Tony. "What?"

"I know you'll keep me safe, Jethro, you always do. Just try not to forget to be a human being while you're at it, okay?"

"No promises," Gibbs grumbled.

Tony grinned. "Any chance we could look at those employee files at home? I'd love to lie down."

"I'll see if Abby can put them on something."

"Download, boss."

"What?"

"You'll see if Abby can download them to a laptop, so we can look at them at home."

Gibbs shot him a withering sneer which made Tony laugh. 

Slowly standing, his body creaking in complaint, Tony said, "Let's go see Abby. I want out of here."

"You're probably safer here," Gibbs pointed out.

"So you're just going to keep me here twenty-four/seven until we catch our killer?"

"Thought's crossed my mind," Gibbs admitted.

"At the risk of making you even crazier," Tony pointed out, "this place isn't always that safe."

The truth of that wasn't helping Gibbs' mood, and he narrowed his eyes in Tony's direction.

Tony sighed, saying, "Well, you might not need to eat or sleep when you're working a case, but I do. So, let's go see Abby, then let's go home, grab something to eat, and then sleep." 

Gibbs wanted to argue but he really couldn't. "Let's go, then," he said instead.

Tony fell in beside Gibbs and they headed for the elevator and Abby's lab.

* * *

Monday was just as frustrating. Interviewing their rape suspects only yielded the information that, yes, someone had paid them to go after Tony, telling them to make sure it didn't look like Tony had been singled out. The spree of violence had been their idea, and even with a long jail sentence stretching out in front of them, the men seemed creepily proud of their handiwork. They confirmed that the picture of the guy in the photograph was the man who had hired them, but that's all they knew. He'd met with them once, given them a lot of money, promised more when it was done, and they were mostly just pissed that they wouldn't get it now. 

They seemed to hold Tony accountable for that, and it made Gibbs glad that they'd be in prison until they were all very old men. 

"He met them at a bar," Gibbs finished up. The rest of the team had scattered, leaving Gibbs and Tony up in the bullpen.

"A bar we're going to check out?" Tony asked, looking interested. Gibbs had insisted on him coming into work, even if he was technically on leave. There was no way he was leaving him at home alone. 

"A bar I'm going to check out," Gibbs countered.

Tony rolled his eyes. "You get that I'm an agent who carries a gun, right?" he asked Gibbs a little testily. 

"You're an agent who was recently almost beaten to death, with a cast on his arm, and ribs that are still sore, and who is not allowed to carry until you get recertified at the shooting range," Gibbs said back, just as irritably. "You can barely roll over in bed without groaning," he added in a softer voice.

Tony licked his lips, then bit them, looking like he was trying very hard not to say something unpleasant. Gibbs knew it had to be hard for the man having no place to go to get some privacy. 

"Then, drop me off at the Westin on your way," Tony suggested.

"No," Gibbs said.

"Gibbs," Tony said tightly, "I'm not staying here." It was already after six.

"You're not coming with me," Gibbs said, not willing to budge.

"Fine," Tony said abruptly. "Go."

Gibbs wondered if this was going to go down as his shortest serious relationship ever. "Are you going to stay here?"

"Sure," Tony said.

"You're lying," Gibbs said stiffly.

"You bet your ass I am," Tony said in icy tones. "I'm the one with his butt on the line. "Last time I checked, I was still an adult, and you do not get to pull this Ahab shit with me, when it concerns me. So, please, go to the bar, see what you can find out."

Gibbs glared at Tony to absolutely no effect. Tony stared stonily right back at him. Hating himself for asking, knowing now wasn't the time, but anxious about the weird tight, worried feeling in his gut, Gibbs leaned in, asking, "Are we okay?"

Tony let out a truly beleaguered sigh, saying, "How long have I known you?"

"A long time," Gibbs admitted.

"And how many times have I seen you get obsessed?"

"Too many times to mention."

"And didn't I, after knowing all of that, still tell you that you were it for me?"

Gibbs nodded, his gut relaxing, a grin starting to form.

"Of course we're okay, I’m just pissed at you," Tony reproached him.

Gibbs could deal with that. And deciding having Tony with him where he could keep an eye on him, versus having Tony on his own doing who knows what, made it easy to ask, "So, you want to come with me to the bar?"

"Yes," Tony said, with a grin, "I do. And when we're done, I want a hamburger. And French fries," he added. "Although, I'd settle for some really good potato chips. And seeing as we really can't go out to a restaurant, in case my stalker decides to go postal, we'll have to stop and buy food on the way home."

"Your stalker could go postal at the grocery store," Gibbs pointed out.

"Nah," Tony said. "We'd be constantly moving at a grocery store. Too hard a target. Not like sitting at a restaurant."

Gibbs admitted there was some truth to that.

"Unless he just decided to blow the whole thing up with a missile launcher," Tony added, unnecessarily as far as Gibbs was concerned. "Of course, he could do that here, too."

"Shut up," Gibbs urged him. "I don't need the visuals."

"When's Ducky back?" Tony asked, honoring Gibbs' request to change the subject.

"Tomorrow," Gibbs said. Ducky had been out of town since Friday at a pathology conference in Atlanta.

"Good," Tony said.

Gibbs wondered if Tony was looking forward to having Ducky back because he could set Ducky on Gibbs, or if it meant he'd have the morgue again as a refuge when Gibbs was driving him crazy. Maybe both.

"You ready?"

Tony checked around his desk, picking up his backpack with a wince.

As they were walking out, Gibbs asked, "What did you mean when you said you learned early to put important things in safe deposit boxes?"

Tony looked intensely uncomfortable for a second.

"Never mind," Gibbs said. "You don't have to tell me." Yet, he tacked on silently. 

"No, it's okay," Tony told him. "It just made me remember about the fire and all my stuff."

"Sorry."

Tony shrugged. "When I was about eight, I guess, my dad took me to the bank with him, and we went into the back to open a safe deposit box. It all seemed really exciting to me, to go into secret rooms, and be given a key, and I asked him if I could have one." 

Tony adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and Gibbs took it from him.

"Hey," Tony complained.

Gibbs ignored him. "Keep talking." He slung the bag over his own shoulder, as they walked through the garage to Gibbs' car.

"He said yes, thought it was a good idea--probably because it had something to do with money--and he signed me up for one. One of the people at the bank, who thought I was adorable, her words, not mine," he added with a scowl that made Gibbs grin, "told me the sorts of things I should put in it. Stuff that was important to me."

They got to Gibbs' car, and he unlocked it, and both men climbed in. Backing out, Gibbs headed for the exit. Despite the fact that the story was charming so far, Gibbs knew it had to have a bad ending if Tony's father was involved.

"You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, aren't you?" Tony asked.

"Oh, yeah," Gibbs said, heading toward the bar.

Tony let out a soft unhappy laugh. "It sort of does, and sort of doesn't. Anyway, I went home and looked around my room, and took my favorite comics, and a signed baseball, and a couple other odds and ends that were special to me, and our chauffeur at the time, I can't remember his name, took me back to the bank, and I put that stuff inside my new safe deposit box."

"And?" Gibbs asked, figuring the bad stuff had to happen next.

"I was away at camp the next time my dad needed someone to beat up, so he took it out on my room and destroyed everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything. He systematically slashed all my clothes, tore all my books apart, broke every toy I had. Even today I can't fathom what was going on in his mind, then or the other times he did it."

Or what he would have done to Tony, Gibbs added silently. Maybe killed him. "I’m thinking it was a good thing you were gone," Gibbs said.

"Yeah," Tony said. "I think you're right. My father told the staff to leave it, because he really was a sick fuck, and he wanted me to come home to that."

"Jesus, Tony," Gibbs said, horrified. He'd assumed that one of the staff would have told him about it.

"Quite a homecoming," Tony said with a mocking half grin. "Of course, as soon as I saw it, the staff had everything out of there in a few minutes, and they'd been out shopping, and replaced all the tore up stuff with brand new stuff, which was kind of cool." 

His face told Gibbs that that was mostly a lie. The kindness had been cool, perhaps, but not the stark evidence of his father's hatred.

"But," Tony said, and this time there was a real grin on his face, "I had my coolest stuff in my safe deposit box."

Gibbs was able to eke out a grin at that.

"And seeing as my father seemed to develop a taste for destroying my stuff as well as me," Tony added matter-of-factly, “I developed a habit of putting stuff in my safe deposit box."

"You said you had several," Gibbs said.

"Well, as I grew older, my collection of cool stuff grew," Tony said. "And despite the fire, I still have all of it. I usually bring it home one box at a time, so I can enjoy it, but for some reason," Tony paused, thinking, "it might have been because of the rape case, because of the hours we were working, I had taken everything back and not brought anything else home. So, all that stuff, it's safe."

"What's in there?"

"All my important papers and," Tony said, interrupting himself, "all this information is in an envelope in my desk in case I die, giving you permission to get into the main box, where you'll find all the keys and numbers for the rest of them. It's been notarized."

"Stop," Gibbs demanded. 

"Hey," Tony said, his hand moving to Gibbs' thigh. "I just wanted you to know. You're my beneficiary, so everything I have goes to you."

"Can we stop this conversation?" Gibbs pleaded. He was touched, truly, and thought that it was time he changed his will, but he was already dealing enough with the possibility of Tony's death, without pounding it home any further.

"Okay, stopping," Tony said meekly. "Like I said, all my important papers, collectors items, those same comic books, also collectors items, my mom's jewelry, my photo negatives from before I went digital, and some back-up drives to my computer. Tim helped me with those. Anyway, that sort of stuff."

"I'm sorry," Gibbs said, unable to say anything else. Yes, the safe deposit boxes had saved a lot of Tony's irreplaceable belongings, but the reason he had them was untenable.

"You still have any of Kelly and Shannon's stuff?"

Gibbs supposed he owed Tony an answer. "A few things. A flask they gave me, a tape of one of Kelly's birthday parties."

"What happened to the rest of it?"

"I put it all in storage so I could go through it all later."

"And when you went through it?"

"I never did," Gibbs admitted after a long pause. He hadn't given that storage container a thought after shoving the last box in.

"So you have everything of theirs?" Tony asked in surprise.

"I guess I do," Gibbs said, equally surprised. He wasn't sure how he felt about having all of their belongings.

"Feel free to say no, but maybe we could go through it together," Tony offered. "Maybe there's stuff in there you might like to put around your house."

"You wouldn't mind?" Gibbs asked, not sure he'd take Tony up on his offer, but touched nonetheless.

"No," Tony said. "Truthfully, I’m sort of honored that I…" he shrugged, not finishing, sounding suddenly unsure.

Gibbs wondered at how that sentence could be finished. Honored that Tony measured up to the memory of Shannon? Honored that he could actually take her place in Gibbs' heart? Honored that Gibbs might trust him to share Shannon and Kelly with him? Gibbs thought about all those choices, and realized that they were all true. He put his hand over Tony's, which was still on his thigh. "I'll always love her," he told Tony honestly, "but I love you as much, if not more."

Eyes bright, Tony turned his hand so their fingers laced. He squeezed tightly, not saying a word.

Gibbs' throat felt tight, and he appreciated the silence, deciding when they were done with this case, when he knew Tony was safe, he'd get Shannon and Kelly's things out of storage and invite Tony into that part of his life. Maybe he'd invite Abby and Ducky, and air out a few more ghosts. 

"Does that mean we might actually get to have sex some time?" Tony asked when they pulled into the bar.

Gibbs barked out a laugh before he could stop it, also appreciating how Tony could lighten a mood. "Yes, Tony, that means we might actually get to have sex."

"Good," Tony said, shooting him an incendiary look. "Let's find this fucker."

Rocked back by that look, Gibbs nodded, forcing himself to open the car door when a part of him wanted to lunge across the seat and kiss Tony senseless. But Gibbs hoped he was never too lost in lust to take Tony's safety lightly. He put a hand out to keep Tony in the car while he got out and looked around. There were a lot of cars in the parking lot, and more cars streaming by on the road, but there was nothing off, and his gut was telling him things were safe. "Okay," he said, pleased, and a little surprised, that Tony had stayed put. Tony got out and, together, they headed for the door.

* * *

The bar was a bust, no one recognized the man in the photograph, and now that they were on the way home, Gibbs didn't want to take Tony to the grocery store.

"I’m not asking," Tony snapped. "I get that we're in your car, but feel free to stop it at any time and let me out. And if that's too much to deal with, drop me at Abby's, and if you want someone with a gun, drop me at McGee's."

Grinding his teeth at the thought of dropping Tony off anywhere, Gibbs kept driving. He didn't have to make a decision as to whether to go home or the grocery store for another couple of miles. Looking in the rear view window, Gibbs checked to see if it looked like they were being followed. He'd thought he'd seen a car a little too frequently at first, but a mile back it had taken a left, veering off.

"I get that you want to protect me, but the problem is that you can't."

"I sure as hell can," Gibbs bit back.

"No, you can't. He doesn't care about the damage he causes, either material or in human life. He can drive a Mack truck into a restaurant, use an Uzi in the grocery store, or blow your house up. All we know about him is that he has a real jones for wanting me dead, which means maybe he'll be truly stupid one of these times and tip us off as to who he is."

Against his better judgment, Gibbs took the right to the grocery store. 

"We should probably figure out how to use me as bait, and have him come for me on our terms," Tony suggested.

Not a stupid idea, and if it was Gibbs' life on the line, he'd do it in a second. He kept his mouth shut, sure that whatever came out right now would alienate Tony beyond even his astonishing ability to deal with Gibbs' attitude. He could feel Tony's expectant eyes on him, and he finally, unwillingly, said, "We'll discuss it tomorrow."

As if satisfied, Tony sat back. As they were pulling into the grocery store parking lot, Tony said, "I think we're being followed."

Gibbs looked in the rear view mirror and saw the same car he'd been watching before. It didn't turn into the parking lot, however, just kept on going. "I saw that car before."

"Maybe we should follow it," Tony said, his head bobbing a little, obviously keeping the car in view.

Flipping open his phone, even while turning around and driving back out the exit, Gibbs dialed the police. In short order, after identifying himself, he requested the car in question be pulled over and any people in the car be detained for questioning. "You still see him?" he asked Tony.

"He's about ten cars ahead of us," Tony told him, and read off the license plate number.

Gibbs relayed that into the phone. "Consider the occupant armed and dangerous," he told dispatch. They followed the car about half a mile until Gibbs heard sirens behind him. Gibbs pulled over to let two cop cars race by. Not wanting to get too close in case the guy had some lethal explosive in the car, trusting that he wouldn't kill cops unless he thought he could take Tony out at the same time, Gibbs stayed where he was.

He and Tony watched as the car was pulled over. The cops approached the car, got the man out of his vehicle, and put him in the back of one of the squad cars. The man went peaceably enough. "Is that him?"

"Hard to say," Tony said, squinting. "It looks like him. Same build, same color hair."

Not willing to just assume it was the same man, Gibbs was still unable to squelch a flare of righteous joy that they'd caught him. When Gibbs made as if to follow the cop car, Tony shook his head.

"Don't even think about it, Jethro," Tony growled at him. "It'll take a while for them to get him back to the station, and even if it doesn't, he can wait. Once we get there, we could be there for hours, and I'm tired and hungry. We go back to the grocery store, then we go home and eat, and then we go talk to the scumbag."

It was true that they hadn't eaten since lunch, and they probably should eat before spending what remained of the evening questioning a suspect. When the traffic eased for a moment, Gibbs turned the car around, and headed back to the grocery store. When they got there, he said, "Make it quick."

"Ten minutes," Tony told him with a happy grin, already trotting toward the store. Gibbs muttered under his breath, but followed Tony in.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Gibbs carrying two grocery bags, Tony already eating out of the bag of chips he was carrying, they dodged around a store clerk attempting to bring an unruly row of shopping carts under control. The clerk zigged when he should have zagged and two of the carts got loose, moving at an impressive speed, as if hoping to escape their grocery store captivity.

"Crap," Gibbs swore, when he saw they were on a collision course for his car. That was all he had time for before the carts hit his side passenger door and the car exploded in a deafening roar and hot flames.

Gibbs and Tony had a collision course of their own when they tried to protect each other from flying debris, and they landed on their asses, groceries strewn about them. At that point, the debris had mostly landed, and Tony asked the clerk, "Are you all right?"

"Holy sheeeeit," the kid said, panicked and wide-eyed. "Did I do that?"

Tony started to laugh, punctuated with snorts, unable to stop. He was laughing so hard, he had to curl up to protect his stomach muscles, a hand out in protest as if to beg the kid and Gibbs to stop making him laugh.

Now the clerk was staring at Tony. Gibbs assured him, "Not your fault, but get inside."

"The carts," the kid protested.

"Leave them," Gibbs ordered in his voice that expected to be obeyed.

The kid ran for the store while Gibbs, furious, got to his feet, sure that the driver the police had picked up had been a diversion, while the real killer had no doubt followed them right into the grocery store parking lot and planted a bomb under Gibbs' car. If the cart hadn't hit the car, he and Tony would be dead right now. The fact that the bomb had detonated so easily told Gibbs it was an amateur job, set with a simple trigger mechanism to explode with movement. A professional would have made sure the bomb was attached to the ignition to guarantee a kill. And, once again, their killer hadn't cared about any possible collateral damage. Anyone could have been near the car when it went off. 

"You okay?" Tony asked him, still wheezing a little from his laughter.

"I’m glad you find this so amusing, DiNozzo," Gibbs said bitingly.

"I can't help it. It's like whoever's doing this is either the most stupid killer in the world, or one with the worst luck," Tony said with dry amusement.

Gibbs didn't find anything funny about the situation. Sooner or later their killer would, out of frustration, go for a much more direct kill and, sooner or later, even unlucky people got lucky. He heard sirens heading their way and guessed someone must have called from inside the store. Gibbs put a hand down to help Tony up, wanting to get the two of them inside.

There was a squeal of tires, and Gibbs looked up to see a car gunning right for them. "Move!" he yelled, even as he pulled out his gun and started to fire at the windshield, more than happy to take out this asshole right now. He could hear Tony moving, bellowing at Gibbs to move his ass. Two more shots convinced the man that this was yet another bad plan as the car turned away and sped out of the parking lot. Gibbs had no idea if he'd hit the bastard or not.

Tony was suddenly right in front of him and in his face. "I don't fucking care how indestructible you think you are, you are going to lose if a car runs into you going that fast!"

"I moved," Gibbs objected.

"Yeah, right into its path!"

Gibbs didn't see what the fuss was about. He was fine. He used his phone to call McGee, to make arrangements for someone to come pick them up. "Your car's at NCIS, right?" he asked Tony, as he closed his phone.

"It is," Tony told him sullenly. "And, hopefully, bomb free."

He called McGee back and told him to have Tony's car checked out. 

Tony was still glaring at him, and as a string of cop cars raced into the parking lot, Gibbs let out a sigh. It was going to be a very long night. 

* * *

"Do you know who this guy is?" Abby asked Ducky the next morning.

"And good morning to you, too, Abby," Ducky said kindly, taking the picture.

"Good morning," Abby said with an apologetic grin, "and welcome back. Do you recognize this man?" Ducky was so good with faces and names.

Ducky brought it closer, then away. "Well, I can't be certain, but he certainly does have our Anthony's eyes. Is he a relative?"

Abby's jaw dropped and she snagged the picture away from Ducky. "Ducky," she said with a quick smack of a kiss to his cheek, "you are a genius." She raced back to her lab and brought the photo up on the large screen, then cropped away all but the eyes. It could have been Tony staring at her. "Cousin?" she asked herself. She didn't remember a cousin, but it had been a long time ago, and she hadn't been with the DiNozzos long enough to know much of anything about them. Something she continued to be grateful to both Gibbs and Tony for.

"Half-brother?" she continued musing out loud. If it was a planned brother, there were at least twelve years between Tony and the younger man. But it seemed like Tony would know if he had a younger brother or not; surely someone would have let news like that slip.

"What have you got, Abs?" Gibbs said abruptly from the door.

"How do you always know?" she said at Gibbs' usual impeccable timing, showing up exactly when she had something awesome to tell him. She'd heard about the bombing this morning and was a little put out that no one had called her, but after one look at Gibbs, she decided she'd let it slide. He had that angry, flinty look in his eyes that even got Abby to tread carefully. 

"Ducky," Tony explained, coming in behind Gibbs. "He said you looked like you'd had an 'a-ha' moment and went racing back to your lab." Tony didn't look quite as angry as Gibbs, but he wasn't a happy camper either.

She made an adjustment and put the whole picture back on the screen. "Now who does this look like?" as she cropped it again. 

Gibbs stared at the picture, then looked at Tony. "Tony. He's got Tony's eyes." 

Tony, meanwhile, was pointing an unhappy finger at his chest. "I don't get it. Who is he?"

"I think he's family," Abby said with a wince. "A cousin, maybe a brother."

"I don't have a brother, and I know all of my cousins."

"Could your father have had any children after he sent you to San Francisco?" Gibbs asked.

"I suppose," Tony said, "but I find it hard to believe I wouldn't have found out. Carolyn never talked to my father, but she spoke to other members of the family. A new DiNozzo heir would have been big news."

"Maybe he fathered a child, and didn't know about it," Abby suggested.

"Why would he be trying to kill me?" Tony asked, bewildered.

"Trying to get in good with daddy?" Gibbs asked.

"To my father, disowning me was the worst thing he could do to me. I was cut off from his money and his power, all he sees as worthwhile in life. I can't see him finding any need to sully his hands with murder." He ran a hand over his face. "Fuck. I have to go talk to him, don't I?" He shut his eyes for a moment. 

Abby wanted to hug him, but she'd leave that until later. Gibbs, on the other hand, in a rare public gesture of support, put his hand on Tony's shoulder. "Not alone, and I'm also perfectly willing to go by myself."

The look Tony shot Gibbs made Abby feel warm all over, and she was thrilled that maybe the two of them had finally figured things out. 

"You just want to punch him again," Tony said with a small grin.

"Damn straight," Gibbs growled. "I'm serious, Tony. I can go with Ziva or McGee, and we can question him without you."

Tony looked like he was seriously considering it, but then he shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but it's probably time I dealt with him as an adult." He tapped the badge he was wearing. "As an NCIS special agent."

Abby wanted to hug him again, but this time because she was proud of him. 

"We'll take the team," Gibbs said. "I want extra eyes until we catch this guy."

Tony nodded, blew out a long breath. "I'm not sure where my father lives anymore. I know it's in Maryland somewhere, but that's it."

Gibbs' eyebrows rose at that. "He lives in Maryland?"

Abby hadn't realized that Tony's dad lived so close and, obviously, neither had Gibbs. She wasn't crazy about that idea.

"I'll find him," Abby offered. Then, unable not to, she threw her arms around Tony and held him tightly. "I'll come with you if you want."

He hugged her in return, patting her back. "Thanks for the offer; and I know you're not a kid anymore, but I'd just as soon you and he never occupy the same room again."

Abby was fine with that; she still held vague but threatening memories of that time with Tony's father, and very clear ones of all of Tony's bruises, that as a young girl, she'd never thought to ask about, taking all his easy lies as truth. But she would have gone in a heartbeat if Tony had wanted her there. 

Gibbs looked like he'd just as soon not have Tony in the same room with his father either, but he didn't have much choice about that.

Tony was staring at the eyes on the screen again. "I don't get it. Who is he, and why does he want me dead?"

"I don’t know why he wants you dead," Abby said fiercely, "but Tim and I will figure out who he is. There has to be some information somewhere about him, and now that we have a clear direction, we'll find it."

Gibbs' cell phone rang and Gibbs snapped his last name into it. "Be there in twenty," was his response.

"A case?" Tony asked.

"A case," Gibbs said, adding after a look at Tony's cast, "You're not going."

Tony rolled his eyes, but something in Gibbs' voice must have alerted him not to bother arguing. "I'll hang with Abby, try to figure out why some family member's trying to off me." He sort of looked like he wasn't really surprised, and that made Abby have to hug him again. 

Gibbs shot Tony a look, and Abby wondered if she wasn't there if Gibbs would have kissed Tony goodbye. She was about to offer to leave when Gibbs strode out of her lab. Biting back a grin, she and Tony sat down at the computer to start searching.

* * *

"Where is he?" Gibbs asked Abby when the team, sans Tony, returned after a very long day; it was way past six, pushing seven. Abby's lab was sans Tony as well, and Gibbs glared at her. It probably wasn't her fault, but he was too tired to care. 

"He went back to your place," Abby said with a wince.

"Alone?" Gibbs bit out. "You let him go?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Abby protested.

"Handcuff him to your counter? Duct tape his ankles together? Lock him in a room?" Gibbs threw out, already calling Tony's cell phone. 

"He snuck out when my back was turned," Abby confessed. She held up a piece of paper. "He left me a note that he needed some down time and that he'd be at your house."

"He's not answering," Gibbs snarled. 

"He was tired and hurting," Abby threw out worriedly as he stalked toward the door. "Maybe he's sleeping." Then, yelling, she added, "I talked to him an hour ago, so he got to your house okay."

That got Gibbs to stop. "You spoke with him?"

She nodded. "He's been checking in every hour, faithfully. He promised to do it after I called and gave him hell. Last check in, he said he might miss the next one, because everything hurt, and he was going to take a pain pill."

Gibbs felt a little calmer. He wished he had an answering machine so he could call and yell for Tony to pick up. "You guys figure out who he is?" Gibbs asked as he pointed at their alleged suspect.

"Sort of," Abby said with a grimace. "We didn't find indisputable evidence that he's related, but we do have some reason to believe that he's been in touch with Tony's father. And we found out where Tony's father is living." 

Gibbs nodded. It looked like some answers would have to wait. "Ziva's got some evidence for you," he said, walking again. 

"Do I have to do it tonight?" Abby asked, somewhat plaintively.

"No," Gibbs said. "Go home."

"Can I come with you?" she asked.

Gibbs shook his head. "Not until I know it's safe." He walked back to her, gave her a kiss on her forehead. "I'll call."

"You better," she warned him.

When Gibbs was in his car, he called Tony again, hanging up when there was, again, no answer. Deciding to smack Tony upside the head if he'd left the front door unlocked, Gibbs pressed on the gas, passing several cars, ignoring the honks his action generated. 

When he made it to his neighborhood, he pulled into the driveway, leapt out of his car, and ran for the front door.

"Hey," someone said behind him.

Gibbs spun around, his gun out.

The pizza delivery boy dropped his red carrying case and let out a shriek.

Abashed, Gibbs put the gun down, but not away. "What do you want?"

"Someone ordered a pizza," the boy stammered out.

If Tony was alert enough to order a pizza, he was damn sure alert enough to answer the damn phone. "How much?" Gibbs snapped out.

"Uh, twenty-nine eighty five," the boy managed to get out.

Jesus, Gibbs thought, as he pulled out a twenty, a ten, and two single dollar bills. Trust Tony to buy as expensive a pizza as he does shoes. "Here," he said, pushing the money at the kid. He put his gun back in its holster. 

The kid crouched down, pulled out a pizza, checked it, and shakily handed it to Gibbs. 

"I’m a cop," Gibbs said to the boy. "Don't sneak up on me again."

"Don't worry," the boy said fervently.

Gibbs bit off a grin and stalked to the front of the house. At least the damn door was locked, he thought, as he jiggled the handle. He pulled out his keys, unlocked it, and walked inside. "Tony," he yelled.

"Right here," Tony yelled back.

"Why didn't you answer your damn phone?" Gibbs snarled as he followed Tony's voice into the living room. Tony was sitting on the couch, the remote control in his hand, voices coming from the TV. 

Tony glanced at Gibbs, saw the pizza box, and frowned. "You bought pizza?"

"You mean you didn't?" Gibbs snapped, glaring at the pizza box in his hands then flinging it like a Frisbee into the kitchen, not even wanting to know what someone could do to pizza to make it kill someone.

"Yes, I did!" Tony hollered at him. "Was that my pizza?"

"Why did you ask me if I bought pizza if that was your pizza?" 

"Because I thought maybe you bought pizza, too, in which case we'd have a shitload of pizza to eat," Tony said, getting up with a groan and glowering at Gibbs. "Now, though, Mr. Discus Olympian, we might not have any pizza to eat."

"Oh, shut up, you big baby," Gibbs told him with a grin and a roll of his eyes. "I didn't throw it that hard." He strode into the kitchen and picked the pizza box up off the floor. He flipped the box open and winced.

"What?" Tony complained. "Is it ruined?"

"No, it's not ruined. It's just a little messy." He carried it back into the living room and placed it on the coffee table.

"Messy's okay," Tony said with relief. "I can do messy." He reassembled a piece of pizza and pulled it out, shoving half of it in his mouth.

Gibbs started reassembling his own piece. Now that the threat of death by pizza was over, he realized he was starving. Still pissed off, though, he asked, "Why the hell weren't you answering your phone?" 

"It was running out of juice, so I shut it off. I need to get my charger from my home that no longer exists. Shit." He frowned at Gibbs. "Why didn't you use the land line?"

Gibbs didn't want to admit that he didn't think of it, especially when he'd been thinking about answering machines. Deciding it was useless to stay mad when Tony was obviously okay, Gibbs ate a large bite of pizza. "Did you get some sleep?"

"Yeah, an hour or so," Tony said. "Did Abby freak?"

"I freaked," Gibbs told him with a glare. "You didn't answer your phone."

"I need a new charger," Tony said defensively. "I can't help it if it got burnt up in a fire."

As excuses went, it was hard to argue with it. "We'll get you one tomorrow," Gibbs said. "By the way, I pulled a gun on the pizza boy, in case someone calls to complain."

Tony stopped eating and stared at Gibbs. First it was a smile, then a full out grin, and then Tony burst into laughter, dropping the pizza back in the box, sagging back against the couch cushions, getting weak as the laughter continued.

Ordinarily, Gibbs might have taken offense, but it was good to see Tony laugh like this, for the second time in two days. So he just sat there eating his pizza while Tony laughed himself into a stupor. When he was done laughing, he was so relaxed, Gibbs wasn't surprised to find him nodding off a few minutes later. A short while after that, Gibbs had him tucked in bed, fast asleep. Sliding in next to Tony, Gibbs picked up a book to read. It felt comfortable, an old-married-couple sort of ease, and it made Gibbs snicker seeing as how they hadn't even managed to have sex yet. 

* * *

Gibbs wasn't sure what woke him up, but in a moment he went from fast asleep to wide awake. He listened carefully, but all he could hear was Tony snoring lightly next to him and the crickets outside the cracked bedroom window.

Something was wrong, Gibbs knew it to his marrow, but he had no idea what. He sniffed the air to see if he could smell gas or something equally lethal. Gibbs leaned over Tony and shook him awake, putting fingers over his lips to keep him from speaking. Tony's eyes sprang open, and after one startled look at Gibbs, he easily slipped into agent mode, nodding at Gibbs, both of them rolling out of bed to each side, into a crouched position.

They remained stationary, listening, but again Gibbs heard nothing, and neither did Tony, apparently, when he shot Gibbs a questioning look. Gibbs might have been tempted to write it all off as a bad dream, but his gut told him otherwise. He was glad to see that as long as he was taking it seriously, Tony was too. Tony took a second to shimmy into some sweat pants and a t-shirt, stepping into his shoes, and after a moment, Gibbs did the same. Creeping to the bureau, Gibbs grabbed his pistol. His other firearm was in the kitchen, so Tony would have to stay unarmed for the moment.

Tony crept over to him. "What's going on?" he asked in an almost inaudible tone.

"I heard something," Gibbs said back, just as quietly.

"Should I be bait?" Tony asked.

Gibbs shook his head. They needed something as bait, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be Tony. Staying low, he left the bedroom, keeping all the lights off, and they crept downstairs for the kitchen. Once there, he opened the drawer, silently, and pulled out a second pistol for Tony.

Tony took it gladly, waiting for direction.

Gesturing for Tony to stay low, Gibbs moved into the living room by the front door. He took all but one of the jackets off the coat rack, spreading the remaining coat around the rack. "When I give a signal," he whispered to Tony, "turn the living room light on."

Tony frowned, but nodded, moving to the light switch on the wall.

On his back, the coat rack straddling him, Gibbs bent his knees, using his feet to push himself a couple of feet into the living room to the edge of the large picture window. "Now," he said, and Tony hit the light switch.

Gibbs had barely moved another inch when all hell broke loose as someone began shooting an automatic rifle into the living room, tearing the coat into shreds, knocking over the coat rack. Tony lunged for the floor, as bullets began to tear through the walls and doors. 

"This guy is a fucking lunatic!" Tony complained, creeping close to Gibbs, running his hands over him to look for injuries.

"I'm fine," Gibbs told him impatiently, batting his hands off. "Get out of here!"

"You start moving and I'll start moving," Tony demanded, crouching down lower, as a sweep of bullets came perilously close. "Fuck!"

"This guy is dead meat," Gibbs corrected, but he started moving, afraid that the next sweep might be low enough to hit. As the bullets swept right, he pushed Tony left. "Run!"

Bending low, they ran for the back of the house and out the back door, continuing to keep low as they hunkered down, protected by the cement foundation of the house. Gibbs put his hand up, just in case Tony was about to say something, and listened. The shots had stopped. 

"You okay?" he asked Tony softly. His eyes swept Tony from head to foot, glad to see a total absence of blood. The shots started up again, and something crashed to the floor. 

"I'm perfect," Tony said sarcastically, "if you ignore the fact that there's a fucking lunatic out on your front lawn with an assault rifle turning your house into Swiss cheese, and trying to do the same to me."

Gibbs liked his house, and he loved Tony. He checked the clip to his pistol.

"What the hell are you going to do?" Tony said warningly.

"Go out front and stop him."

"Yeah, I don't think so. Not alone."

The shooting stopped again, and there was the sound of running feet. 

"Damn it," Gibbs cussed, sprinting around the house just in time to see a dark car speed away. "Damn it to hell." He felt like shooting after it anyway, but the fear of hitting a civilian stopped him, and he flicked the safety on and stuck the gun in the back waistband of his pants.

"What I don't understand," Tony said, now standing next to Gibbs, "is if he has the money and connections to do all this stupid stuff, why hasn't he hired a professional to kill me? This guy sucks at this. This was his plan? To hide outside here all night until something moved and then shoot the hell out of it? That's a really stupid plan." He slapped his chest. "And I'm proof of its stupidity, because here I am. Still alive. Again."

Gibbs found it somewhat amusing that Tony sounded so aggrieved at the man's incompetence. Gibbs, on the other hand, while totally pissed off, was thankful. He heard sirens approaching. Again. He and Tony were single-handedly keeping the local police on their toes. 

"All I want," Tony said with a scowl, "is a good night's sleep. Is that too much to ask?"

"Think Dana could put us up for the rest of the night?" Gibbs asked. Now they were both homeless. It was only 1:30 in the morning, far too early to call the team in, and they needed at least a partial night's sleep before facing DiNozzo Senior. 

"I don't care," Tony said from behind him. "I'll gladly pay for the damn room."

Neighbors were starting to come out of their houses now, and Gibbs racked his brain to come up with a cover story.

"Look at your house," Tony said in angry wonder. 

Gibbs blew out a long breath. Every window and casing was shattered. The gutters and roof were trashed, although why the hell he was shooting that high was a mystery. There were hundreds of bullet holes from the roofline to about knee level. Gibbs would have to replace the entire front of his house, let alone whatever damage had been done to the inside. Gibbs was sure all the dry wall would need to be replaced. "Crap." The last thing he wanted was repairmen in his house for weeks on end, not when Gibbs would rather be the one to do it, to make sure it got done right. 

One of the neighbors approached and, as if out of a script, Tony turned to him, pulling at his hair, looking like someone who'd been woken up out of a sound sleep to find his home being shot at. "Jesus H. Christ. Some crazy person shot Gibbs' house up. Look at it. Jesus. Who would do that?"

Gibbs decided to leave Tony to it, let the neighbors think that they had no idea why this had happened. Meanwhile, Gibbs would be telling a very different story to the cops while Tony kept the neighbors entertained. No doubt movie references would be coming out soon. 

As Gibbs walked the cops to his front door, he had to admit that Tony was right. Whoever was trying to kill Tony might have money, but he was an idiot. It was like he was throwing dynamite in the water in hopes of killing a particular fish. He knew nothing about how to plan a kill and execute it, something Gibbs, again, was grateful for. 

He let the cops walk through the house, giving as concise a statement as he could. After making arrangements for security for the house for the night, and quickly packing a bag for him and Tony, Gibbs grabbed his agent by his elbow, away from the now adoring neighbors, many of whom were offering home-cooked meals, a spare bedroom, and in one case, a daughter, and dragged him to the car. "Let's get out of here."

Tony looked like he wanted to argue, being someone who thrived on attention, but as if suddenly remembering what was going on, he said good-bye to all his new friends, and got in the car without another word of complaint. As they drove down the street, Tony said, "Shit. What a night. A week. A month."

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

"Maybe we shouldn't go to the Westin," Tony said. "Nothing to stop this asshole from going postal there, too." He looked out the side and back windows. "Do you think he came back after driving away? Do you think he's watching us?" He slammed his good fist into the dashboard. "I fucking hate how paranoid he's making me."

"With good reason," Gibbs pointed out. "You should be paranoid. I know I sure as hell am." Gibbs was doing his own looking out the windows and rear view mirror.

"So where do we go?"

"We could sneak back into my house," Gibbs said. "Nothing wrong with the back of the house, and if we know he isn't following us, it would the last place he'd check."

Tony's eyebrows went up, but then he nodded. "I actually like that idea, although we'd have to keep all the lights out."

"I'll call the rent-a-cops and tell them to go in and close all the curtains in the back of the house." Gibbs flipped open his phone.

"Yeah, and tell them not to shoot us by mistake. With the way my luck's been running, it wouldn't surprise me." 

"Just keep your eye out for anyone keeping an eye on us," Gibbs said.

"Pull over and shut the car off."

Gibbs did as instructed, still talking on the phone. When he finished, they sat there for several minutes, watching for any activity, but other than a car with several teenagers in it, and another one with a man and a woman kissing so avariciously it was amazing they hadn't driven into a tree, the street remained empty.

"Let's go for it," Tony said.

Gibbs took a roundabout way back to the neighborhood, parking in the driveway of a house on the street behind his, two houses down, that was empty and up for sale. Once there, they again waited for anyone to take notice.

When Gibbs was satisfied that they weren't being observed, he and Tony got out of the car. Grabbing the bag from the back seat, they made their way through the three yards between the driveway and Gibbs' backyard. In minutes Gibbs had sent the rent-a-cops on their way, and he and Tony were back in the house.

"You sure you're okay with me being here?" Tony asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, now that your neighbors have met me, they're probably going to guess we're sleeping together."

"Do I look like I care?" Gibbs answered.

"I guess I thought you'd want to keep this thing under wraps."

"I don't want you blowing kisses at me at the office, DiNozzo, but if I was ashamed of what we were doing, I wouldn't be doing it."

Tony beamed at him. "Can I give you a blow job in the men's room one day?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "No."

Tony looked like he was thinking of all the ways he could get Gibbs to change his mind and, knowing Tony, he probably could. Gibbs would deal with that later. Then Gibbs was being kissed, wet and messy, and Gibbs decided he'd deal with everything later.

He couldn't let this go without some teasing, though. "Now you want to have sex?"

Tony growled at him, and Gibbs' sweatpants hit the rug just as his t-shirt got whipped off of him, landing across the room. "I've wanted to have sex since about five minutes after I met you. Wait. That came out wrong," Tony said with a grimace. "I wanted to have sex with you about five minutes after I met you as a cop."

"I figured," Gibbs said, chuckling, working Tony out of his clothes. "I just meant wouldn't this have been easier to do when the house was still intact?"

"The only reason we haven't already had sex is because you kept saying no. Now shut up."

Gibbs started to laugh, but he stopped when Tony sank to his knees and swallowed Gibbs' cock. Instead, he groaned, and then put a hand over his mouth as a reminder to keep the noise down as half of his house was essentially open to the street. His other hand went in Tony's hair. It felt so thick, so luxurious, his other hand joined in, and his fingers fisted there as Tony gave him the best blow job of his life. His knees were like spaghetti and only strong hands on his hips, cast notwithstanding, kept him from falling as he came, biting his lips to keep from yelling. A few seconds after that, despite Tony's best efforts, he was landing on his knees, hugging Tony, and then kissing the taste of his semen out of Tony's mouth. 

"Can I fuck you?" Tony asked, begged, whispered in his ear. "Please. You have no idea how long I've dreamed about it." 

Gibbs had never bottomed for anyone but he found himself nodding, willing to give this man anything he wanted, especially if it kept them naked in bed, or almost in bed, together. "Can we move to the bed?" he suggested, already knowing his knees wouldn't thank him tomorrow for that crash landing.

"Anything," Tony promised him. "I'll even buy you a new bed."

Gibbs started laughing again, and realized he couldn't, literally, remember the last time he'd laughed during sex. For years it had been a means to an end, even with the three women he'd married. He shook his head thinking that should have tipped him off that he was being stupid.

Tony had been busy while he'd been woolgathering, because Gibbs was on the bed, on his side, and Tony was kissing his hip. It was nice to know how much his body trusted Tony, willing to be manhandled like that without checking in with Gibbs' brain. The thinking stopped right after that as Tony moved the kissing to his ass, then Gibbs was on his stomach, and Tony was pulling his cheeks apart and his tongue was touching Gibbs where no tongue had ever touched Gibbs, and he was groaning into his pillow, fingers bunched up in the sheets, as he discovered an entirely new erogenous zone.

He didn't even notice Tony adding fingers because the tongue never left; he only noticed it when Tony pulled them out because he felt so empty all of a sudden, but then Tony was back, and he was pushing in, and despite Gibbs' unspoken concerns about being fucked by a man, it felt so right, and all he knew was Tony was in him and around him, and Tony was murmuring words of love as he peppered Gibbs' back with kisses. A hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it in time to Tony's thrusts and Gibbs had a second of disbelief that he was hard again before he was coming for the second time and down for the count.

When he came to, Tony was sliding back into bed, and Gibbs felt clean and sore, but in a really good way. "Hmm," he hummed contentedly, having forgotten how wonderful it felt to be completely fucked out.

Tony laughed at him, and Gibbs couldn't find it in himself to care. "How did you get so good at that?" he muttered to Tony. Then, he frowned, and added, "Never mind, don't answer that."

Tony snickered and kissed his cheek. "Just practice for the main event," he said.

Smiling, loving the feel of Tony's arms strong and warm around him, feeling slightly guilty he was so relaxed when Tony's life was still in danger, Gibbs felt himself drift off.

* * *

Gibbs decided they'd tackle Tony's father at his home, rather than at his place of business. If things got ugly, Gibbs wanted as few witnesses as possible. Abby had tracked his residence to the town of St. Mary's on the eastern shore, less than twenty-five miles from where Tony's apartment used to be.

Glancing at his watch, Gibbs decided he could do with one more cup of coffee before they headed out. Even with traffic, they should get to DiNozzo's house by dinner time. Not that Gibbs was expecting a dinner invitation. "Tony," he said.

"Yeah, boss," Tony said from his desk. He'd been in rare spirits all day, in all his goofy glory, and Gibbs had been hard-pressed to keep a grin off his face.

"Don't you have something to do?" He shot a meaningful look at Ziva and McGee.

Tony made a face but he nodded. As Gibbs strode off, he heard Tony say, "Conference room."

* * *

Ziva was very ready to speak to Tony without Gibbs around, and she dragged him into the elevator. Once Tim was also on, she chose a random floor and, as the elevator began to move, hit the stop button. "I do not understand," Ziva hissed. "Why is Gibbs so relaxed? What does he know?" The whole day had been off. First to find out that there had been another attack during the night, and no one had called her. And then, when Tony and Gibbs arrived at the office, Gibbs had been smiling. Smiling! She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Gibbs smile, and none of them had ever been when one of them was in danger.

He was certainly not unconcerned, and his mind was as quick as ever, as was his ability to throw orders around. But he was looser, and he'd lost that obsessed anger he'd had when he'd left the night before. 

Ziva might have thought he'd gotten laid, if she didn't know for a fact that he would never have left Tony by himself by design. While Ziva was just as glad Gibbs wasn't acting the overbearing ass he had been the day before, it worried her because it didn't make sense. With another attack, she'd have thought he'd be worse than before.

"He knows what you know," Tony told her. 

She snorted at him. "I do not believe you. There is no way he would be this relaxed with you still in danger. Did Gibbs kill him last night?" That might explain how relaxed he was. Maybe they killed him and buried him in Gibbs' yard. Maybe going to see DiNozzo Senior, at this point, was just to satisfy Gibbs' curiosity, to put a name to the face of Tony's would be killer.

"No, Ziva," Tony said in chiding tones. "And, no, no one is buried in Gibbs' back yard." At a startled look from her, Tony laughed. "It was all over your face." 

She didn't like thinking she was that easy to read, even by Tony. 

"Don't worry," Tony said with a grimace. "He'll be back to his own grumpy self the minute he meets my dad." 

"Why?" McGee asked.

Tony hesitated, but finally said, "They met before. A long time ago."

"How long?" Ziva asked. McGee's eyes were wide with surprise.

Sighing, Tony leaned against the elevator door, all humor gone from his face.

"How long?" Ziva pressed, her curiosity sliding into dread at Tony's unexpected reluctance to spill something about his life.

"I was twelve."

McGee's eyebrows almost rose off his head. "Twelve? How did he meet your dad when you were twelve? Did he meet you, too?"

Ziva was stunned by the thought that Tony and Gibbs had known each other that long. They had hidden it extremely well. "Tell us."

Tony looked like he was searching for words. "I can tell you the whole story sometime, after this is over, but to make a long story short, Gibbs stopped my father from beating me to death."

"Your father hit you?" Ziva asked, appalled, not only at the subject matter, but that she knew nothing of it, would never have guessed any of it, given Tony's happy-go-lucky nature.

"Most of my life as a child," Tony said. He shook his head. "Long story. Abby's part of it, too, but I don't want to tell the whole thing right now. I just, we just needed you to know, so you wouldn’t get blindsided by anything my father says to Gibbs or vice-versa. He wants everyone's head in the game."

Ziva approved, although a little more notice, not to mention a lot more information, might have been helpful. 

"Did he hurt you badly?" McGee asked, and then looked ashamed he asked the question.

"Yeah, McGee, he did," Tony said curtly. "And if this shows up in one of your books, I will make your life a living hell."

"I would never," McGee gasped in horror. "Never. I just…" He flailed around in need of words, and Tony waved him off.

"It's okay," Tony said stiffly. "I'm gonna go find Gibbs. We'll be leaving soon." He pulled out the stop button.

Ziva didn't want him to leave like that, so she put her hand on his arm. "Whoever this person is, I will kill him for you, if you want. And we will bury him together."

"I'll help," McGee said staunchly.

Tony grinned at the sentiment. "I'll keep that in mind." The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped out, letting the doors shut behind him. 

Ziva shot McGee a censorious look, as she pushed the stop button again. 

"I didn't mean anything," McGee defended himself. "I just remembered something Tony said, that thing that made me think something bad had happened to him, and--"

"And you were making sure this was it." Ziva finished up. She remembered that conversation, remembered trying, and failing, to pump Tony for information. 

"And Abby knew," McGee said with a wince. "She knew something bad had happened to Tony, but she wouldn't tell me. And Tony just said that Abby was involved in whatever this is."

It was almost worse only having some of the facts, but Tony had said he'd tell them the whole story, and she would hold him to that.

* * *

Tony had tracked him down and shoved him in a closet. "You're confusing them," Tony said with a grin, stealing a quick kiss. 

Gibbs knew he wasn't behaving to expectations, but it was hard to be quite so obsessed with the situation when his body felt so sated. He knew he hadn't decreased his vigilance in keeping an eye on things, making sure no dangers were lurking, gunning for Tony. In fact, he felt more on his game, able to put his attention where it needed to be, not twisted up inside with frustration. He shrugged at Tony, and stole a kiss of his own. 

"Boy, if I'd known having sex would relax you this much, I'd have done it a long time ago," Tony teased him.

"You try to manipulate me with sex," Gibbs said threateningly, or giving it his best shot, "and you'll be sleeping on the couch."

"I fully expect us to be having sex every night," Tony said with a twinkle in his eye, "so if, on occasion, it helps take that stick out of your ass, it'll just be an extra bonus."

"Maybe I'll be sticking something hard in your ass, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.

"I'll take it any way I can get it," Tony purred, his hand cupping Gibbs' crotch. "There isn't anything you can do to me that I haven't jerked myself to sleep thinking about."

"Jesus, Tony," Gibbs said, pushing him as far away as the broom closet allowed. The man could tempt a saint. 

"Sorry for trying to lighten the mood when I have to deal with my dad for the first time in twenty years." Tony looked like he'd rather have his fingernails ripped off.

"You don't need to go," Gibbs said. "I mean that. I can handle your father."

"I know you can. I just want it done, you know?"

"I know," Gibbs said. "It will be. We'll find out tonight who's coming after you, and considering what an idiot he is, I'm guessing that apprehending him won't be difficult."

"I bet he's just gone home between each attempt, kicked his dog, and gotten out his Assassinations for Dummies Guide to see what harebrained scheme he should try next."

Gibbs suspected that wasn't far from the truth. "You told them?"

"Bare bones, but yes, I told them."

"They needed to know," Gibbs said, still feeling badly he'd asked Tony to share something so painful.

"I know. And you were right. If things go bad, neither of us need Ziva or Tim still standing when they should have ducked, because they were freaked about something they heard."

Gibbs gripped Tony's shoulder. "You okay?"

"No, I'm not, but I will be when this is over. So, let's go do it."

They stared at each other for a moment, and before Gibbs could give in and kiss the infuriating man, he pointed at the door. "You leave first."

Tony grinned. "You don't want to leave together?"

"Go."

Tony cracked open the door and peeked out. "Coast is clear. See you upstairs." With a waggle of eyebrows, he was gone.

Gibbs hung his head, grinning, hoping he'd survive the experience of having Tony DiNozzo as a lover and mate. He cracked the door open to take his own peek, and seeing an empty hallway, he followed after Tony.

Tony was the only one at his desk when he returned. Gibbs holstered his gun.

"Boss," Tony started.

"Forget it," Gibbs cut in. "You're not supposed to be carrying a weapon. If you shoot your father, no matter how righteous the kill, you'll be a civilian doing that, and you do not want that mess on your hands."

Tony put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay." 

Gibbs shot him a look. "And don't try to weasel one out of Ziva or McGee. I told them I'd have their badge if they gave you one."

"Shit," Tony said, frowning at Gibbs. "It sucks having you know me so well."

Grinning at this small victory, and seeing Ziva and McGee come out of the elevator, Gibbs had them gear up, and they headed out.

* * *

They met the first obstacle when they pulled into the driveway of what could only be called an estate. Out of the corner of her eye, Ziva could see Tim taking mental notes, and she fully expected that this would end up in his next novel. It was huge, sprawling, and protected by a large black metal fence with a security guard hut in the center of the drive.

"You grew up here?" Ziva asked, doing her best to keep her surprise out of her voice. She'd known Tony had grown up wealthy, but this was much more than she'd imagined.

"No," Tony said. "We lived in North Carolina."

"But you grew up like this?"

Tony nodded, his face grim. "Money doesn't make everything better, you know."

"I know," Ziva said.

"Can I help you?" the guard asked.

Gibbs flashed his badge. "We have some questions for Mr. DiNozzo regarding a case. We hope he'll be able to assist us."

"He know you're coming?"

"No, he doesn't," Gibbs answered. "Please let us through," he added, with his do-not-mess-with-me voice.

"I have to announce you," the guard said.

"Do what you have to," Gibbs told him. 

They all listened as the guard called up to the house. "Yeah, hi, it's Ken down at the gate. I got some cops here want to ask the big guy some questions. Yeah, yeah, I'll hold." He shot an apologetic, what-can-you-do sort of shrug at the car.

Ziva glanced around, noting the metal fencing went in both directions as far as the eye could see, enclosing a large amount of land. She heard a neigh off in the distance. "Horses?"

"My father likes to ride," Tony said quietly.

"Do you?"

"I used to."

"Okay," the guard said, pushing a button. "He said to go on up. Walter will meet you." 

The gate opened up, and Gibbs drove through. "Walter?" Gibbs asked.

"My father's valet," Tony explained. "He's been with him for years."

"So he knew?" Gibbs asked tightly, maneuvering his way along the curved driveway.

"He knew."

Ziva watched as Gibbs' hands tightened on the steering wheel. The tension was back in his shoulders, and his eyes were steel.

"He cleaned me up sometimes," Tony threw out, his eyes shaded, his face still. "He wanted to save my father the discomfort of having to deal with me after the fact."

"What a gem," Gibbs bit out.

"Jesus," McGee muttered in the back seat.

They arrived at the house, or more accurately, the mansion, and Gibbs shut the car off. He turned so he was facing all three of them. "Listen up. We're here to find the name of Tony's attacker. That's all. Tony's here because he felt like he needed to be here. You are here," he said, gesturing toward Ziva and McGee, "on the off-chance things go to hell in a hand basket, or in case our suspect is here."

"What he’s not saying is that none of you are here to exact revenge on my father for being an asshole," Tony said. "Although," he carried on, "Gibbs is really hoping my father acts out, or pulls a gun on one of you, so he can shoot him."

"If that happens," Ziva said darkly, "we will all shoot him."

It didn't look like the conversation ended up where Gibbs wanted it to, but after he glanced at Tony to see that their support had lightened the look on his face, he gave a decisive nod and opened his door. 

A man Ziva assumed was Walter was opening the front door, a polite smile on his face. His eyes roved over all of them, and while his gaze faltered momentarily when he saw Tony, it moved on. Ziva wasn't sure if Tony had been recognized or not. Tony's shoulders were as tight as Gibbs', and Gibbs was standing very close to his senior agent. Ziva moved to Tony's other side, determined to show her support throughout whatever was coming.

"May I help you?" Walter said in a smoothly modulated voice.

"Are you Mr. DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"No, I'm not, I'm his personal assistant. What is the nature of your business with Mr. DiNozzo?"

"That is something I will be discussing with Mr. DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped, "and not his personal assistant." He pulled out his badge and displayed it for Walter. "Please get him."

Walter looked a little discomfited, but he covered it quickly, opening the door wider. "Please, wait inside. I'll inform Mr. DiNozzo that you're here."

Gibbs walked in like he owned the place, and Ziva noticed that Tony had the smallest of grins curling the corners of his lips at Gibbs' behavior. The foyer they were waiting in was huge; Ziva thought her entire apartment living and dining room would fit inside of it. There were elegant rooms leading off to the right and left, rooms they were not invited into, a long hallway straight and to the left, and a large, ornate stairwell heading upstairs. Walter vanished down the hallway.

"This looks just like your other place," Gibbs said softly to Tony.

"Feels just like it," Tony said. "He likes what money can buy. He likes to intimidate people with it."

"He likes to buy people's souls with it," Gibbs said bitterly.

"That, too," Tony agreed.

Ziva wished she knew what Gibbs knew, although she could guess that part of that conversation meant that the older DiNozzo bought people's silence with his money.

The sound of footsteps was muted on the thick rug, but Gibbs' attention was suddenly riveted on the hallway as Walter and an older man walked in. He had salt and pepper hair, the skin around his eyes lined, two deeper lines around his mouth. He seemed frail, certainly old, but his eyes were sharp. Ziva could see little of Tony's handsomeness in the man, and decided Tony must get his looks from his mother. The only trait they did share was their eyes. They were the same color with the same arched brow. 

"What may I do for you, gentlemen?" Mr. DiNozzo asked in a patronizing sort of way. "And lady, of course," he added on. Ziva had already hated him on principle, but now she despised him. She could see it in his eyes, something she'd never seen in Tony's; he was a user. He would care for you as long as you met his needs, and he'd just as quickly turn on you once you stopped. 

"We need to ask if you recognize this man," Gibbs asked, giving nothing away, withdrawing a photo from his pocket.

"Don't I know you?" Mr. DiNozzo asked Gibbs.

Tony snorted. The senior DiNozzo's eyes rested on him for a second, then dismissed him, clearly seeing Gibbs as the man in charge. 

"We met once," Gibbs said, holding the photo out. "A long time ago. Do you recognize him?"

Mr. DiNozzo took the photo, glanced at Gibbs, his brow furrowing, then back at the picture. "He's a son of a friend of mine. His name is Mark Robson. Why? What's he done?"

Ziva could almost see DiNozzo calculate how to best cut Robson loose from anything connected to him. 

Then Mr. DiNozzo looked at Gibbs again, eyes narrowing. "Wait," he said tersely, "I remember you."

"Good," Gibbs said. "Where can we find Mark Robson?"

"You have the temerity to come into my house--" Mr. DiNozzo began indignantly.

"As a Federal Agent," Gibbs cut in, "and I expect your full cooperation. Is that clear enough?" His voice intimated that Gibbs had his doubts, and Ziva had to bite back a grin.

"Walter will give you his address. I haven't spoken to him in weeks."

"Of course not," Tony said under his breath, speaking for the first time. 

"Excuse me," Mr. DiNozzo said icily. "Did you say something?"

"I'll take that address," Gibbs said to Walter. "And a phone number, please."

When Walter left the room, Gibbs put a cease-and-desist hand out to Tony, and Tony obeyed. This time. Ziva didn't think the command would work twice. She also didn't believe that Gibbs would leave here without allowing Tony to let this play out the way he wanted. She also could barely conceive of a father so cut off from his son that he wouldn't recognize him when he was standing five feet from him.

Walter returned with a piece of paper that he handed to Gibbs, who handed it, and the picture, to Tony, saying, "Are we done?"

Tony seemed to be giving the question the serious thought it entailed.

"Now that you've got what you came for," Mr. DiNozzo was saying, "I'd like you all to leave." Walter tried to usher them out.

Gibbs looked like he wanted to rip both men to shreds. "Tony?" he prompted.

Tony let out a mirthless chuckle. "No, I'm good. I can see he's still the worthless piece of shit he always was. Him and Walter. We can go." He turned to walk out, except Mr. DiNozzo moved faster than Ziva was expecting, and managed to get a hand on Tony's shoulder. 

"Wait," the older man said, studying Tony. "Is it you? Anthony?"

"Get your hand off my shoulder," Tony said in a voice that would have had Ziva backing up. She didn't hear that voice very often, but people ignored it at their peril.

Apparently, Mr. DiNozzo liked to live dangerously because he left his hand there, trying to turn Tony around.

"He said," Gibbs snarled, pushing Mr. DiNozzo away from Tony, "to take your hand off his shoulder." He moved in between Tony and his father. 

"Are you threatening me, again, in my own home?" Mr. DiNozzo asked incredulously. "I'll have you standing in front of a judge before sun up."

Gibbs got right in his face. "What I'm seeing is you threatening one of my agents. And I will do anything to protect what's mine."

"Gibbs," Tony said, putting his hand on Gibbs' shoulders. "He's not worth it. Really. Trust me, I know."

"Don't you talk like that to me," Mr. DiNozzo snapped, his face reddening in anger. He drew his hand back as if he'd smack Tony with it if Gibbs wasn't standing between him and his target.

"You are a pitiful man," Ziva said in disgust. "Not even a man. A pig."

Even McGee sneered at him. 

"I'd love to punch you again, so, please, try to attack Tony," Gibbs said. He knuckled one fist into the other. "I can't tell you how satisfying it was to put you on your ass."

Ziva barely kept the surprise off her face. She hadn't realized Gibbs had had the pleasure of actually hitting the man. She was momentarily jealous.

"Get out of my house," Mr. DiNozzo thundered.

"Gladly," McGee said.

Gibbs glanced at Tony, eyebrows up, clearly willing to make a bigger scene if it was what Tony needed. Tony smiled tightly at him and shook his head. "I'm good."

But, then, Mr. DiNozzo made the mistake of grabbing Gibbs' shoulder, fingers digging in. "You stole my son from me."

Gibbs was already fisting his hand when Tony beat him to the punch, literally, throwing a beautiful upper cut that sent the older man into a wall. "Don't touch him," Tony threatened him. "Don't touch anything I care about. Ever."

"He poisoned you against me," his father said, climbing to his feet. Ziva noticed he was, however, keeping his distance.

"Are you delusional?" Tony demanded. "You beat me on a regular basis. You lost any right to be my father the first time you laid a hand on me. I thank God every day that you disowned me when I was twelve and sent me away." Tony placed his hand on Gibbs' shoulder, exactly where his father had put his hand. "Let's get out of this stink hole."

"Do they know the type of child you were?" Mr. DiNozzo shouted at their backs as they walked out the door. "Do they know how difficult you were? I was disciplining you, for God's sake."

Gibbs was back in the door in a flash, and Ziva grinned as Mr. DiNozzo cringed away from him. "Disciplining him? By knocking him unconscious? Putting him in the hospital, time and time again? Breaking his arm, putting so many bruises on his body there was barely any normal skin tone left? Paying off hospital administrators and police chiefs to buy their silence? That's not discipline. That's you being a sick fuck."

Mr. DiNozzo might be an asshole, and at times unwise, but he could be taught, at least as far as Gibbs was concerned, as he kept his mouth shut and came no closer, clearly seeing that all it would take was a twitch to get Gibbs all over him. Ziva was very disappointed at his control, and she was wondering how she might provoke him. Gibbs' words about Tony's childhood were like daggers, creating painful pictures in her head of a twelve year old boy, no, much younger, as it sounded as if he left when he was twelve, so he was a very young child, helpless, living under the tyranny of this man. 

Tony said something to McGee, handing him the piece of paper Walter had given Gibbs, and McGee nodded, slipping back out of the house, pulling out his cell phone.

Gibbs checked with Tony, who said as insolently as he could, "I’m bored. Let's go."

Gibbs couldn't hold back a short laugh. Keeping an eye on the senior DiNozzo, he backed the team outside, Ziva allowing herself to be herded with the rest of them. Once out there, he still kept one eye on the door as he barked at McGee, "You call?"

"Local law enforcement's on their way to hold our suspect."

Gibbs grunted at that. "How long do you think?" he asked Tony.

"Before he realizes he can help make things difficult for you? Five minutes."

"You okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, I think I am," Tony told him, although Ziva could still see shadows in his eyes, and when Gibbs moved a few inches closer to him, she suspected he could see the same. "Besides," Tony said, "we have a suspect to catch, and if we catch him, I might actually get a good night's sleep, even if I have nowhere to sleep."

Ziva hadn't realized there'd been that much damage. "Your house is unlivable?"

"Pretty much," Gibbs said, as they walked back to the car.

"The back of the house, upstairs, is okay, which includes a bedroom and a bathroom, but everything else has holes in it. I think if anyone leaned on the front too hard, it would cave in and take everything else with it," Tony explained.

Gibbs glared at Tony. "Why didn't you think of that last night?"

"All I wanted to do was sleep, Gibbs," Tony protested. "I wasn't doing my best thinking."

"Damn it," Gibbs said with a sigh. 

"I'd offer to let you both stay with me," McGee said, looking like he'd rather do the opposite, "but I only have one spare bedroom and it isn't really ready for company."

"No," Tony agreed, "it's filled with enough World of Warcraft paraphernalia to give any geek geekgasms."

"My apartment's not any bigger," Ziva said, although she was tempted to invite Tony. But the two of them, especially Gibbs, in her apartment, for weeks? She shuddered at the thought. "I think you will need to get a leash."

"Lease," Tony corrected her absentmindedly. "We should probably get something together, boss. It would be a hell of a lot cheaper."

Gibbs shot Tony a sharp look, said, "Not unless it has a yard I can bury you in," then mumbled, "we can talk about it later," then smacked Tony on the back of his head.

"Hey," Tony protested. "What was that for?"

"Practice," Gibbs said, getting into the car.

Ziva expected Tony to look disgruntled, but he was grinning instead, rubbing the back of his head as he got into the passenger side of the front seat. He held his casted arm against his chest. 

"You need a pain pill?" Gibbs asked.

"No," Tony said. "It's a little sore, but I'll wait until we're back home."

"What home?" Gibbs snarked.

"You're depressing me," Tony grumped.

Ziva exchanged an amused glance with McGee. Sometimes listening to Tony and Gibbs was like listening to an old married couple. She blinked, startled at a sudden thought. Gibbs relaxed, looking like he'd gotten laid, Tony looking satisfied, the fact that the only part of the house still intact was a bedroom, meaning they'd slept in there together, Gibbs' excessive proprietary behavior since this whole case started. She tossed all the facts together in her head, coupled with all the new facets of Tony she now knew about, and let them percolate as they drove across town. As they pulled into their suspect’s driveway, she shook her head, decided she was crazy to even be thinking that way, and put her mind back on the case.

* * *

Tim was with Tony at the back of the house, just in case, as they waited for Gibbs to announce himself at the front. Gibbs had wanted Tony to stay in the car, but Tony had refused, saying if Robson had expected Tony to show up, then nowhere was safe, and if he hadn't, then Tony would be fine.

There was a cop car parked in front of the house and both cops were in the house, so there was little danger of anything happening to anybody, but Tim was still trying his best to stay between Tony and the house, without letting Tony in on it, as he'd mock Tim fiercely for his efforts. It was a nice neighborhood, and a nice house, and from what Tim could see through the window, Robson had a lot of nice new toys. He was surprised Tony wasn't salivating over the huge television monitor the guy had mounted on the wall. Even the backyard looked new, brand new hardscape with an outside fireplace and lots of seating, with specialty rock everywhere. 

"Look," Tony said, pointing at a scrap of cloth on the ground.

"What?" Tim asked.

Tony flipped the cloth over and Tim saw it was a University of Maryland t-shirt. "Bet he went there," Tony said. "Bet that's how he knew who to talk to, to find those assholes who went after all those couples, and then me and Abby."

Tim wasn't going to take that bet. He heard the front door open and, after a few seconds, heard running feet heading for the back door. Withdrawing his weapon, Tim braced himself, yelling, "NCIS, stop or I'll be forced to shoot."

"Nice, McProbie," Tony said. "You almost sounded like you meant that. Next time try it when he can hear you." He was prattling on about real guns being different from Elf Lord projectile weapons when their suspect slammed out the back of the house running so fast, he was by Tim before he could shout again.

Tony put his arm out and Mark Robson ran right into his cast, nose first. He went flying backwards, nose gushing blood, landing on his back, cussing up a storm. Tim aimed his weapon at him as he lay there.

Tony, meanwhile, was doing his own cursing, after letting out a yell of pain that got Gibbs and Ziva racing through the house, the cops right behind him.

"Meet the idiot," Tony said, pointing down, cradling his cast, splattered with blood, close to his chest.

Gibbs glanced down, then up at Tony. "Looks like there're a couple of idiots out here."

"Could you just book him so we can go? I really need a pain pill now."

Even Tim could see Tony wasn't faking this. His face was pale, even a little green, and Tim wondered if he was about to puke. "Maybe you should sit down," he suggested.

Tony took a few wobbly steps, using his good arm to brace against the fireplace, sitting down on the curved stone seating area.

Ziva got Robson onto his front under Gibbs' watchful eye, and cuffed him, reading him his rights. When they got him on his feet, Robson saw Tony, let out an enraged shriek and lunged for him, ripping himself out of Ziva's hold. 

"You!" he screamed, as he plowed into Tony, knocking him off the wall onto his back. He scrambled to his feet and got in a solid kick into Tony's side, before Gibbs hauled him off. "It's all your fault!" Robson screamed, trying to kick him again. He had pointy, steel-toed cowboy boots on.

Tony was trying to get to his feet, his good arm now clutching at his side, his face even more pained than before. "What the fuck did I ever do to you? I don't even know you." He staggered to his feet.

"He said he was going to cut me out of the will," the man screamed, almost incoherent, taking both Gibbs and Ziva to hold him. "He said he was going to stop giving me money and leave everything to you."

"Who?" Tony asked, sounding completely bewildered.

"Our father."

"I really need to sit down now," Tony said, hand flailing behind him for something to hold on to. 

Gibbs threw Robson at the cops, and moved to Tony quickly, getting an arm around his shoulder, helping him to sit back down on the stone bench. 

"You understand your rights, right?" one of the cops asked Robson.

"It was all going to be mine!" Robson screamed, his anger escalating. It was taking both cops to keep him contained, and Ziva was keeping her weapon trained on him.

"Why would you want anything of his?" Tony asked, truly mystified.

"It's millions, maybe more. Don't you understand?" Robson yelled.

"You're welcome to it," Tony said. "I don't want anything of his."

"You're lying. You're in this together!" Robson accused. 

"Yeah, right." Tony said scathingly, and a little breathlessly. "By the way, who's your mother?" 

"None of your fucking business," was the hostile response.

Tim could only watch as the DiNozzo family hour continued to play out. His life was so normal it was almost impossible to believe that other people's lives could be so sordid. If he wasn't watching it, if he hadn't met Mr. DiNozzo in person, and seen what he was like, he still might not believe it.

"Let's save the rest for the interrogation," Gibbs suggested. "We'll have to get a warrant to search the house." To the cops he added, "Secure the area."

"Yes, sir," the younger cop said. His eyes on Gibbs, and off Robson for a moment, Robson lunged at Tony again. Or he tried to lunge. He ended up running into Gibbs' fist instead. He went down again, howling, and the whole thing might have been funny, if it wasn't so tragic. 

Chastened at his inattention, the cop lifted Robson from the ground, none too gently, and he and his partner dragged him off, kicking and screaming, with Ziva on their tail.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked Tony.

To Tim's surprise and consternation, Tony shook his head. "I think he got a lucky kick in, boss," he gasped out. "It figures." He coughed, and some blood trickled out of his mouth.

"Call an ambulance," Gibbs snapped to Tim. Tim flipped open his phone, dialing 911. Finishing his call, as if by magic, there were more sirens out front, and Gibbs sent Tim off to see what was going on. He heard Tony spit out, "My father's goons have arrived."

Tim moved through the house to find that, indeed, there were more police cars out in the street, and they seemed to be arguing with the first set of cops. Ziva looked like she was figuring out who to kill first. Wishing it were Gibbs out here, instead of him, Tim walked down and said, in his best Gibbs' imitation, "What's going on?"

"They want us to let him go," the younger cop complained.

Tim saw that Robson was safely locked up in the back seat, although he was pounding on the glass, his nose a bloody mess.

"That won't be possible. The man confessed to crimes against an NCIS agent. In addition, he attacked an NCIS agent in the back yard, and we were all witnesses to it." To the two police who had Robson in their custody. "Please carry on. I'll take care of this." To Ziva, he said, "Go help Gibbs. Tony's hurt." She hesitated, but then nodded, dashing for the back yard. He breathed a silent sigh of relief that she hadn't argued with him. 

The cops seemed glad to have someone to take direction from, so they got in their car, Robson still locked in back, and drove off. To the new cops, Tim snapped, "What are your names? I'll need to report you for trying to impede our case." He whipped open his small spiral notebook, glancing at their name tags, writing them down. "Let me see your badges, please. I need the numbers."

Looking apprehensive, both cops held out their badges so Tim could jot down their numbers. "You'll be hearing from our attorneys," Tim said like he meant it. He didn't even know if there were lawyers at NCIS for stuff like that, but it sounded good. As the ambulance drove up, sirens blaring, he added, "Please leave." Tim encouraged the ambulance up the drive, and the staff to the backyard.

"Maybe we could help," one of the cops offered.

"We have an agent in serious medical condition in the back yard because of the man in the back of the police car that just left, and you wanted him set free. I don't think we need your sort of help. And take some advice, if the only reason you became a police officer was to jump whenever someone with money tells you to, maybe you should do the world a favor and turn your badge in." 

One of the cop's faces reddened, while the other just looked confused. 

Tim left them to whatever conversation his words might have caused, and ran to the back yard just in time to see them moving Tony quickly to the ambulance. Tony was gasping for air, his face a rictus of pain, blood dribbling out of his mouth and down his jaw. He also had a death grip on Gibbs' hand. 

Gibbs tossed Ziva his keys. "I'm going with Tony. Get a warrant for the house." With that, they got Tony settled inside, Gibbs sitting down on the end of one of the benches. The driver shut the doors, got into the front, and drove away, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

* * *

The driver put dispatch on speaker phone where a doctor was waiting to listen to Tony's symptoms. While they spoke, the two staff in the back, a man and a woman, took on different duties. The man cut off Tony's shirt, putting leads on his chest and stomach, cleaning around his right collar bone with a pink tinged solution. 

The woman got an IV started and the needle attached to tubing and fluids, and also hooked the leads to a monitor. She started calling off numbers to the doctor on speaker.

"He a diabetic?" the doctor asked.

"No," Gibbs asked.

"Who's that?" the doctor asked, clearly not recognizing the voice.

"I'm his boss, and I have his medical Power of Attorney," Gibbs told the physician.

"Anything I should know?"

"He was beaten badly a few weeks ago, but everything's healing. He took some damage to the kidneys but he was cleared a week ago. His arm's broken and in a cast, but it looks cracked because some asswipe tried to knock himself out by running into it, the same asswipe who just kicked him in the side with some pointy cowboy boots." And the same asswipe, Gibbs concluded silently, who would pay to the full extent of the law for picking Tony as his target. He also swore if he got off on an insanity plea, that Gibbs would make sure he never saw the light of day.

Tony was awake and clearly in pain, and Gibbs' wanted to still be holding his hand. The best he could do was put a hand on Tony's feet, so he did, his fingers curving around the top of his left foot. "Can you give him something for the pain?" Gibbs asked.

"After I get the chest tube in," the paramedic said. "We can't suppress his breathing right now." To Tony, he added, "I'm going to stick you with a small needle to help numb you, okay?"

Tony was trying too hard to breathe to answer, and the woman paramedic slid an oxygen mask over his face. Gibbs could still see him wince when he was stuck with the small needle. Gibbs could only rub Tony's feet, telling him it'd be better soon, that he wasn't going anywhere. 

He heard the doctor give the order for something called a pneumothoraseal, and he focused back in to see the male paramedic open a sterile kit with a disturbingly large needle hooked to a plastic bag. "This is gonna hurt a lot for a moment, but then it's going to make you feel so much better," he both warned and consoled Tony and Gibbs, and then he carefully pushed the needle at a downward angle under Tony's clavicle. 

Tony groaned, trying to shift away, but Gibbs and the woman were holding him still. A small amount of bloody fluid squirted into the plastic bag and Gibbs could see the difference in Tony immediately as he started to breathe better. 

"Better?" the paramedic asked. He quickly taped the needle in place.

Tony nodded, sagging back.

Gibbs could still feel the tension in Tony's body, as it trembled under his fingers. "Can you sedate him now?" Gibbs begged. "He's had a really bad couple of days." Understatement of the year.

The woman smiled at Gibbs, pushed something into the IV tubing, and Gibbs finally relaxed when he saw Tony's eyes close. So close. The guy fails at hiring punks to kill Tony, manages to burn down Tony's apartment when Tony's not there, blows up Gibbs' car when Tony's not in it, strafes Gibbs' house when Tony's safely in another room, and yet manages to almost take him out with a well-placed kick. Maybe he would take that leave of absence to work on his house. It would take that long for Gibbs' nerves to settle down.

Tony seemed to be sleeping, so Gibbs closed his own eyes, keeping his hand on Tony's foot, wanting to stay connected. That was something else to hate Robson for; there'd be no repeat tonight of last night's amazing sex. Gibbs had never had sex that good, and he was looking forward to more of it. And seeing as how Tony had already put forth the idea, in public, of them getting a place together while Gibbs' house was repaired, they could probably get away with it and have that nightly sex Tony had been teasing Gibbs about.

Maybe Tony could get a post office box, and he could keep living with Gibbs. The only person who'd even care would be Shepard, and Gibbs could handle her. Gibbs lost himself in the nice thought of sharing his home again with someone he loved, snapping out of it when the ambulance came to an abrupt stop when they arrived at the hospital.

Gibbs jumped out as soon as the door opened, getting out of the way, but then following the stretcher into the emergency room. Knowing the immediate danger was over, he flipped his phone open to call Tim for an update. After a scowl was sent his way by one of the nurses, Gibbs took it outside.

* * *

Gibbs was back in the hospital within fifteen minutes, and it took him another forty-five minutes to find Tony. He was sent down to radiology, only to be told they'd taken him to the outpatient surgery department. That was a lie, as Tony wasn't there, so Gibbs, barely managing not to pull his firearm, went back to the emergency room. From there he was sent back to radiology, only to be told Tony wasn't there. 

Something in his expression must have alerted the young man working the radiology desk about an imminent explosion, because he got busy on the phone. After several phone calls, it was determined that Tony actually was in radiology, and Gibbs was escorted, after an angry flash of his badge, to where they had Tony waiting for a film to be taken to check the placement of a real chest tube that had been put in place of the temporary one.

"Hey," Tony said to him, looking thoroughly doped up.

Part of Gibbs' anger dissipated at the loopy look on Tony's face, glad at least that even though the hospital seemed to have no idea where their patients were, at least they kept them out of pain. "Hey," Gibbs said back, taking Tony's hand in his. "You look like you're in no pain."

"No pain," Tony echoed, grinning happily.

Gibbs chuckled at him. A tech came to get Tony, and Gibbs watched him get wheeled away, still snickering as Tony waved madly at him until he was out of sight. It only took a few minutes and then Tony was back, and Gibbs accompanied him up to his room. They needed to keep Tony overnight, at a minimum, until they were sure his lung was okay. Tony was still too doped up to care, which explained why he wasn't bitching about spending the night in the hospital. 

Gibbs tapped Tony's face lightly to get his attention. "Are you okay on your own? I need to go interrogate Robson, and arrange for him to be transferred back to DC."

"Sure," Tony said, snuggling into his pillow, and looking, Gibbs was amused to think, completely adorable. It made Gibbs wish he knew how to use the video part of his phone. 

When Gibbs made to leave, Tony said, "Hey, where you goin'?"

"I told you, I have to go check on Robson."

Tony frowned. "Want you here."

Gibbs didn't like feeling torn, but he had to make sure everything regarding Robson was handled the right way. Plus, he didn't think Tony's father was done causing him headaches. "As drugged as you are, I'll be back before you know it."

He really didn't like the shadows that were appearing in Tony's eyes, despite the drugs, and it made Gibbs even angrier with Robson and Tony's dad. DiNozzo Senior might not have asked Robson to commit murder on his behalf, but Gibbs was sure his treatment of what was obviously a bastard son had been egregious enough to push him over the edge.

"My father isn't going to show up, is he?" Tony asked, sounding all of twelve again, and Gibbs had a nasty flashback to twenty years ago, sneaking into a hospital to visit a battered younger Tony. 

It made Gibbs even less willing to leave, and it brought home one of the reasons why falling in love with a co-worker had its drawbacks. "I'll make sure they know not to let anyone in your room," Gibbs promised Tony.

Tony didn't look like he believed Gibbs, but the drugs were winning the battle, and his eyes grew heavy-lidded. Gibbs kissed him on the forehead and went out to give the nurses at the nursing station a short list of the only people allowed to enter Tony's room. They seemed to take it seriously enough, writing the names down, and reassuring Gibbs that someone was always at the desk. Despite his unwillingness to leave Tony alone, Gibbs walked away, determined to bring Tony's attacker to justice.

* * *

Gibbs was almost to the police station when his phone rang. "Gibbs."

"Robson is gone," Ziva said, without preamble. 

"How the hell did that happen?" Gibbs snarled, even as he executed a one-eighty back the way he came. 

"I do not know," Ziva said stiffly into the phone. "Abby was able to get us a warrant very quickly, and we searched the house before heading to the police station. There was enough evidence there to convict him a thousand times over. He was brought in and processed, and according to their paperwork, put in a cell. But he is not there."

"Damn it all to hell," Gibbs cursed. "Get to the hospital."

"You are not there?" Ziva asked, sounding truly anxious.

"No, I’m not there. I was on my way to the station to interrogate Robson," Gibbs snapped. "Call the hospital and alert security. I’m on my way back. I want someone outside Tony's room immediately."

Gibbs heard her bark an order at McGee, and McGee's voice in the background. "He may try to flee," she said.

"Did that look like a rational man to you, Officer David?" Gibbs bit out. He snapped his phone shut, cursing a blue streak, and raced back to the hospital.

* * *

There were three police cars at the hospital when he got there, and as he had no idea who he could trust, thanks to DiNozzo's name and money, he flashed his badge and headed inside, bypassing the elevators and aiming for a stairwell.

Four floors later, he entered by the end of the hallway Tony's room was on. There were two men, not hospital security, and not cops, outside Tony's door. Gibbs had no idea where the cops were, but they sure as hell weren't where they should be, unless they were all playing poker inside the room with Tony. The security personnel were hovering at the nurses' station, even though there was a nurse arguing with the two men, hands on her hips, her face flushed, clearly in need of assistance.

When the nurse caught sight of Gibbs, she said in a very frustrated tone, "I'm sorry, they were in his room before I could get to them, and these men won't let me in." 

"Who's in there?"

"I don't know," she said, glaring at the larger of the two men. "That's a sick patient in there. He's not supposed to have any visitors."

"It's just his father, ma'am," the younger man said.

"There were two men," she told Gibbs. "An old man and a younger one, too."

Gibbs wondered again where the cops were. Is this what Tony had dealt with his whole life? How had Tony stood it? Watching people left and right throw him to the wolves, over and over again. When had it started? Gibbs didn't even know. All he knew was that it had been years. So, had Tony been five? Six? Crying to nurses, to doctors, to anyone to help, to listen. And no one had. It made Gibbs want to shoot someone. 

One of the security officers, a large, overweight man, easily in his late fifties, headed toward them. "I think you all need to just calm down." The other security officer, a short black woman, who looked like she weighed eighty pounds soaking wet, called down the hallway, "Is there somethin' going on?"

Gibbs felt like he was in the middle of a Keystone Cops movie. He pulled out his badge, and making sure the two men saw his weapon, snarled, "Stand aside." Something in his expression must have communicated the fact that anyone stopping him wasn't long for this life, because they both got out of the way.

Turning to the nurse, he told her, "Any cops come up here, you tell them to wait until I call for assistance." With the way his luck was running, they'd all come storming into the room and shoot Tony and him by accident. 

He pushed the door open, taking in the scene in front of him. All three of them were there, Tony, Mark Robson, and DiNozzo Senior. Robson was armed, his gun wavering between Tony and his father, his hair matted down, sweat pouring off his face. 

"Put the gun down now," Gibbs demanded, pulling his own gun and aiming it at Robson. "I will shoot you. Gladly." 

"Hey, boss," Tony said weakly from the bed. "Glad you could join the party. It's a real family reunion."

Gibbs couldn't take his eyes off of Robson, but he had to hope if Tony was making jokes that he wasn't dying. "You okay, Tony?"

"Peachy."

Good enough for right now. "Put the gun down," he growled at Robson.

"No," Robson said stubbornly. "Not until I get what he promised me."

"Good job," Gibbs said sarcastically to the older DiNozzo. "Two sons; one can't stand you, and the other's a murderer." 

"You can hardly hold me to blame--" the man started.

"I hold you entirely to blame," Gibbs yelled at him. "What the fuck are you doing here? You know Tony doesn't want you here."

"Your opinion of me," DiNozzo said condescendingly, "is of no concern to me. And my son is injured, where else would I be?"

Gibbs was speechless for a long moment. 

"Don't bother, boss," Tony said, sounding inestimably weary. "Whatever you're saying is falling on deaf ears. Trust me; he has no clue there's anything wrong with the way he is."

Gibbs felt such a surge of love and admiration for Tony, it made his body shake. "Robson, you have five seconds to put down your weapon, or I will shoot."

"It's his fault," Robson cried, the weapon aiming steadily at the elder DiNozzo. "He said I had to do it."

  
"I said no such thing," DiNozzo said scornfully. "I simply told you to prove yourself, as I would expect of anyone before I could even consider naming them my heir. There are others eager to take their place as my protégé."

"Not me," Tony said. "Mark, you're welcome to it."

"He said he would leave it all to you," Robson said angrily. "That I was nothing compared to you. That I'd have to impress him to make him choose me over you."

"He disowned me," Tony said as kindly as he could, given the circumstances. "He's playing you, like a tuna on a hook. That's all he does. That's all he knows how to do: use people, set them against each other, and smile as he watches them die a little bit each day. Put the gun down. He won't give you what you want. I promise you that."

"He made me do it," Robson yelled again, tears streaming down his face.

"There are ten people dead because of you. People I knew. Friends of mine. Three women were raped, three men beaten. No one made you do that."

"He's actually killed people?" the elder DiNozzo asked, sounding as if he was shocked, but Gibbs was sickened to hear an edge of morbid interest there. Like Robson actually killing people made him more interesting to his father. 

"You said it could all be mine," Robson said again, his voice taking on a dangerous tone that got Gibbs ready for anything. "Put the gun down," Gibbs demanded again. When Robson ignored him, Gibbs decided he'd given sufficient warning. He shot Robson in his right shoulder. 

His gun went flying, and DiNozzo Senior grabbed for it at the same time Robson did. The door to Tony's room flew open and two cops pushed in, McGee and Ziva right behind, trying to stop them. They all had a weapon out. Gibbs turned back to DiNozzo and Robson to find they both had their hands on the gun. Blood was streaming down Robson's chest and arm, but he wasn't letting go. Robson was trying to aim the gun at Tony, while DiNozzo Senior looked like he was gunning for Gibbs. Someone hit the trigger and a bullet slammed into the mattress Tony was lying on, dangerously close to his knee.

"Shit!" Tony yelled. He couldn't exactly roll off the bed with all the tubes coming out of him.  
  
Before Gibbs could shoot again, both cops opened fire, and Robson and the elder DiNozzo were down on the ground. There was a long moment of silence.

"Holy crap," Tony said, sounding stunned. "Are they dead?"

Ziva moved to DiNozzo Senior, while Gibbs moved to Robson, both of them feeling for pulses. Gibbs shook his head at the same time Ziva did.

Standing, Gibbs moved to Tony's side, where he'd wanted to be since he'd slammed through the door. Standing guard while Ziva and McGee secured the room, Gibbs called the director to let her know they had a mess on their hands, and if she could make some phone calls, Gibbs would appreciate it. Despite the old man's influence in this town, a part of Gibbs was half expecting a parade of munchkins dancing down the street singing 'ding-dong the witch is dead' once the news got out that DiNozzo Senior was dead. 

He shot his senior agent a quick look, wincing, realizing that Tony might not be so sanguine about his dad being dead. Tony's eyes were wide, and he was looking at the two dead bodies. "Holy crap," he said again. Then to Gibbs, he whined, "God, I hope he didn't leave everything to me." Eyes heavenward, he added plaintively, "Please, God, anyone else. The gardener, maybe." 

"He disowned you, remember?" Gibbs said.

"Best day of my life," Tony said fondly, quietly adding, "until I found you again." 

Fortunately, no one was paying any attention to them. "Sorry your dad is dead," Gibbs managed to choke out, even though he wasn't at all.

"I'm not," Tony said. "That's not to say I won't have a meltdown about this all later, and maybe need some therapy to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to feel, but right now, I just feel relieved. He really was an asshole."

"He really was," Gibbs agreed.

More people were squeezing in the room, including the two security officers, and a couple of people in suits, no doubt hospital administrators, and Gibbs let out a piercing whistle. "Head's up," he told everyone, "I suggest we get these bodies removed. This DiNozzo," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Tony, "needs another room. I suggest you," and he pointed to the administrators, "talk to your security staff as to why they let two unauthorized visitors into my agent's room, and didn't assist the nurse who was trying to obey my instructions."

Everyone but Gibbs' team stared at him like a deer in headlights.

"Move," Gibbs bellowed, and everyone started moving.

Tony tugged on his arm, pulling him close, whispering in his ear, "I so want you to fuck me right now."

Gibbs was appalled to feel his face redden, not to mention his dick stand up and take notice, and he shot a glare in Tony's direction, who was grinning at him, eyes dark with arousal, and looking totally unrepentant. "You'll pay for that," Gibbs hissed at him.

"I certainly hope so," Tony said back, batting his eyes at Gibbs.

Gibbs bit back a laugh. 

An orderly arrived to wheel Tony to a different room, while one of the nurses' aides started to gather Tony's belongings in a plastic bag. 

"I'll need your weapon," Ziva told Gibbs, and Gibbs surrendered it to her. For this brief moment in time, Tony might actually be safe from murdering psychopaths and abusive fathers. 

He walked beside Tony's bed as it was wheeled to the elevator.

"We thought another floor might be best," one of the administrator's said. "I'm Norman Bragg, COO. I apologize for all of this, Mr. DiNozzo," he said to Tony. "I'll be looking into what happened personally." Gibbs could smell the fear and sucking up like a dead skunk. 

"Don't call me Mr. DiNozzo, please," Tony said tightly. "The name is Tony. And don't look into this because I'm my father's heir, because I'm not."

There was an embarrassed silence for a few seconds, and Gibbs had to hold back a mirthless laugh as he watched Bragg regroup, as he realized he didn't have a cranky millionaire to contend with. "In any case, we do apologize for the incon--" Bragg stopped as if calling Tony's father being shot in front of him an inconvenience, might be a bit callous. "We offer our condolences, of course."

Tony looked at Gibbs and mouthed the word, "Help!"

"Go away," Gibbs said to Bragg.

Bragg stared at Gibbs.

"Really. Go away." He gestured at the orderly, who was doing a lousy job at keeping amusement off his face, "We've got this handled." The elevator dinged, and Gibbs assisted the orderly in getting the bed situated in the car. It took up almost all the available room, making it easy to keep Bragg out. "What floor?" he asked the orderly, when the door shut.

"Three," the young man said, beaming at him.

Gibbs saw that Tony was grinning, too. "What?" He pressed the number three.

"Nothing," Tony said, teeth showing as his smile broadened.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and paid no attention to the two of them, only turning back to them when the elevator doors opened on the third floor. A few minutes later, Tony was settled in a new room.

"I like this room much better," Tony said. "No bodies. No dead people anywhere." Despite his joking, Gibbs could see exhaustion and pain in his eyes. 

Gibbs hit the call button.

"Can I help you?" a static-y voice came over the speaker.

"Tony needs some pain medicine."

"No, I don't," Tony protested.

"Yes, you do," Gibbs ordered.

Tony didn't argue any more, which was proof enough. Someone was there in less than a minute, which kept Gibbs from having to kill anyone, and five minutes after that, Tony was fast asleep.

Gibbs sank into one of the wood and fabric chairs in the room, exhaustion, and the aftermath of too many adrenalin surges to even think about, wiping him out. Another close call. Robson could have easily killed Tony before Gibbs had returned, let alone after. Gibbs' nerves were actually shot.

Ziva and McGee chose that moment to walk in, and Gibbs couldn't even marshal the energy to sit up straight. 

"You look tired," McGee noted.

"Ya think?" Gibbs said. At the rebuffed look on McGee's face, Gibbs waved a hand in his direction, as if erasing his comment. "Anything I need to do?" He hoped like hell the answer was no. He didn't think he could get up if his life depended on it.

"No," Ziva said. "The Director has taken care of things for the time being. You will need to be questioned, but she has told them that they can come to NCIS headquarters to do that."

Gibbs closed his eyes. Perfect.

"Gibbs?"

He tried to answer, really he did, but it was too hard to move his lips, let alone pull words together, so he decided it was time for a nap, and Ziva and McGee could just go bother someone else.

* * *

A week later, Tony, Gibbs, and Tony's father's attorney sat around the dining room table in one of the suites at the Westin Grand. 

"So I don't get anything?" Tony asked the attorney.

The attorney shook his head warily, as if Tony might pounce on him.

Tony closed his eyes. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You don't know how happy you just made me."

The attorney, Phillip Zachary Dahlheimer, Esq., stared at Tony. He'd come to deliver a message from Tony's father telling him that he had been purposely left out of the will, and clearly had thought his message would be poorly received. "I don't understand."

Gibbs said, "He didn't want his money."

"I really didn't," Tony said. "I didn't want anything of his." Then, he asked, "Who did he leave it to?"

"Company assets are being split between the Board, and his personal funds were left to Bennie Bruno."

Tony let out a laugh. "Cousin Bennie. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

"The cousin who collects buttons?" Gibbs clarified.

"The one and only."

"He going to try to give you some of that money?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, yeah," Tony said. "He's a good guy. But I still don't want it." He flashed Gibbs a wicked smile. "Unless someone you know wants a rich sugar daddy?"

"No one I know," Gibbs said firmly. "Is that all?" Gibbs asked Dahlheimer.

"Yes," the man said faintly. "I must admit, that went better than I expected."

"Did you know my father?" Tony asked.

"No, I never met him. One of the partners of the firm always dealt with him."

In other words, Gibbs thought to himself, they stuck this poor guy with a shit job.

"If you'd met him," Tony said, "you'd probably understand." He leaned in. "My father was kind of a jerk."

Gibbs snorted at that. 

Looking confused, but content to leave in that condition, Dahlheimer got up, collecting his papers. "Thank you for your time."

"Anytime," Tony said grandly, getting up, and escorting the attorney to the door of the hotel suite. When Tony shut the door behind him, he locked it and put the security chain on. "Alone at last."

"You really don't mind that he left you out of his will?" Gibbs asked, thinking it had to sting a little.

Taking his question seriously, Tony sat on the chair he'd been sitting on before. "You mean like how my father got the last word in? That even though he's dead he's still managing to tell me how worthless he thought I was?"

"That was harsher than I meant it, but yeah, let's go there."

Tony thought for a long while. "I guess it stings a little, but only because I really wished I'd had a father who loved me, and now I won't ever have that. But, this just cements the fact that he was…" Tony looked like he was struggling to find the right words.

"A worthless piece of shit?" Gibbs offered in hostile tones. "A miserable excuse for a human being who deserved to be flayed alive and then burned in boiling oil?"

Eyes wide, Tony said, "Don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel."

"I hate him, and I'm glad he's dead. And I have no idea how you turned into the man you are today. I can't tell you how proud I am of you, and how much I admire you."

Tony looked away, swallowing.

Gibbs got up to sit on the edge of the table in front of him, cupping his face with his hands. "I mean it, Tony. I know I don't say these things enough, but you impressed the hell out of me when you were twelve, and you knock my socks off now. You are a kind, compassionate, funny, smart, and dedicated man, and it's an honor to be loved by you."

Tony sniffed, glaring at Gibbs. "Shut up." He sniffed again, his eyes bright. 

"No, I won't," Gibbs said, kissing him gently, letting his hands drop. "I expect there'll be some rough days ahead for you, as all of this starts to sink in, and I'll be there every step of the way. But I know you'll get through it, and you'll be able to live the rest of your life all the better without the shadow of that sick fuck hanging over you."

Tony scrubbed at his nose with his fingers, wiping at his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "You don't know how much it helps that you knew him for what he was, that you don't have to just take what I'm saying on faith." He stood and put up his hands on Gibbs' shoulders. "You helped me become who I am, back when I was twelve, and all these years I've worked for you. You are one hell of a man, Jethro, and I think I'm the lucky one here. I don't know what I did to end up having you love me the way you do, but I thank my lucky stars every night." 

This time Gibbs had to swallow, and he rested his forehead against Tony's. 

"Are we done with the mushy stuff?" Tony asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Yes," Gibbs said.

"Then, will you please take me to bed?" 

"It would be my pleasure," Gibbs said wickedly, standing up, and pulling Tony up so they were standing very close together. 

"You sure you don't want me to be your sugar daddy?" Tony asked, leaning in to kiss Gibbs.

"Very sure," Gibbs said. "I wouldn't touch a penny of that blood money."

"Oh, I didn't mean that. My Aunt Carolyn was loaded, and she left me all her money." Tony let his hand brush along Gibbs' body as he turned to head to the larger of the two bedrooms.

"How loaded?" Gibbs asked suspiciously, brow furrowed. 

"Loaded with a capital L," Tony said, yanking his shirt off and leaving it on the floor. His shoes were kicked off next.

"How did I not know this? None of this is in your background check." Gibbs wasn't sure he believed Tony.

"Remember how I told you my Aunt Carolyn was nuts?"

Gibbs nodded.

"She was paranoid, too. She hid all the money. Swiss bank accounts, accounts on the Cayman Islands. She had a safe deposit box thing, too, and all the ones I've gotten to have been loaded with bonds and gold and jewels. Mostly diamonds." His socks came off, and then his belt. 

"You mean you weren't pulling McGee's leg when you told him you have safe deposit boxes filled with gold and jewels?" Gibbs asked in astonishment, pulling his socks off his feet.

"Well, I lied about the drugs. At least I hope there aren't drugs." Tony grimaced at the thought. "And the jewels aren't stolen. She's got receipts for all of them."

Gibbs wasn't convinced Tony was telling the truth. "DiNozzo."

Tony flicked open the button to his jeans, pulling the zipper down just enough for Gibbs to see he wasn't wearing anything under those jeans. Gibbs licked his lips just thinking about it. Gibbs cupped his own groin, feeling his cock grow heavy underneath his fingers. 

"All that money turn you on?" Tony asked teasingly. "I'm serious, you know. I own property all over the world under dummy names. Most of it I've never even seen. You could come see it with me. Italy, Hong Kong, Argentina."

"You're telling the truth, aren't you?" Gibbs said in stupefaction.

"Yup," Tony said, shimmying out of his jeans. "So, you want to rethink that sugar daddy thing?"

Gibbs wasn't quite sure what to think. "So you don't have to work?"

Tony shook his head, backing up into the bedroom.

Gibbs followed him. "You really could be a wild playboy at some beach resort?"

"I think I own a couple," Tony admitted. "Beach resorts, not playboys."

Tony could have left anytime. After he caught the plague, after Kate died, and everything else that happened to him, Tony could have walked any time he wanted to. "Did you stay just because of me?"

Tony shook his head, lying back on the bed. "That was part of it, but I became a cop a long time before I started working for you." He lay there looking like a porn star, but he gave Gibbs a serious look. "You showed me what a man was supposed to be a long time ago, Gibbs. You probably don't remember it, but that night in the hospital, you told me that you expected good things from me, and for me not to let you down. I took that to heart, and I chose right then that I was going to make a difference with my life. I know it sounds corny, but I like being a cop, no matter how much I gripe about it."

Gibbs could hardly argue the point when Tony could have chosen to do anything with that kind of money. Gibbs let his own pants and underwear slip to the floor and stepped out of them. Even though his exact words that night weren't clear to him, he remembered wanting so much for Tony, wishing he could hold him, and tell him he was loved, and so, so worthwhile. 

Taking off his shirt, Gibbs crawled into bed with Tony and wrapped his arms around him. "I love you, DiNozzo. I always will."

Tony sighed in mock distress, even though his eyes were gleaming with delight. "Are we back to mushy?"

"I just don't want you to ever think you aren't loved. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And I don't need your money, and I sure as hell don't need a sugar daddy, but I'd love to go see those places you own, and maybe we could buy a sailboat together. How's that sound?"

"Like everything I ever wanted," Tony said softly. "Everything."

Gibbs thought that was a good place to start, so he pulled Tony closer and leaned in for a kiss.

The End!!!


End file.
